a spirit and a spark
by eltinka
Summary: they come together and try not to fall apart
1. prelude

The world comes back to her, slow like honey pouring into tea, fading in from black and pounding in her brain.

This is what it's like to be weightless: nauseatingly free and like her only chance at giving back to the two people she loves the most. Nothing holds her down or back, not even the Earth.

Except she is anything but. Except there's weight pulling her down and she doesn't have the strength to fight it. Her body breaks under it, and the pain — she can't pinpoint it, can't feel where the ache comes from. It radiates from all over, over, over.

She blinks slowly in the darkness. Her eyes slide with its kaleidoscope vision onto something red, unkind. She thinks she knows him. He gets further away and she doesn't know why. Maybe if she held his eye she'd come back, but she slinks away. She succumbs to gravity.


	2. ochako's acting career

Her smile pisses him the fuck off.

This isn't anything particularly new.

It's not like he's looking to deliberately wipe that goddamn grin off her round ass face just for the fuck of it.

Yeah, that happy-go-lucky shit she's always got going on is, at _best_, annoying. But at least it's _eal_.

He knows fake when he sees it. In this case, she's reeking of it, and its rolling off in waves.

How the fuck didn't her annoying ass friends notice it?

All day, she's been walking around with this glassy look in her eyes, like she's ready to burst into tears any second. Is he the only one who knows?

He's been burning holes in her back through every single class, daring her to turn and face him. To confirm that it was _her _that night, not too long ago.

It looked bad. The bags under her eyes look bad. She just looks _bad_ in general. Her acting is even worse. _How pathetic_.

She hasn't dared to turn his way more than once this morning, where she squeaked out a "_hi_" and scurried away like a scared kitten.

What fucking reason does she have to hide?

His frown grows deeper.

"Yo. Did Uraraka do something to you, bro? You've been staring her down all day."

"Mind your fuckin' business."

Kirishima rolls his eyes. What the fuck ever.

"You still comin' to train with me today? I learned some cool new shit this summer."

Bakugo grunts his confirmation, his gaze still narrowed down on _her_, giggling away at whatever the fuck that dumbass nerd was saying. He isn't even fucking _funny_.

"Dude," Kirishima whispers, "you got a… a _thing_ for Uraraka? I don't blame you, dude, but you've never —"

His growl cuts him off.

"Alright, alright, my bad. What's up?"

"Something's fuckin' off," he says, watching her put her shit back in her bag. She's doing it so damn _slow_, like she's a senile old lady.

God, could she get more annoying? Or obvious?

"What do you mean? She's… herself. Probably just tired. We all are."

He huffs in response.

"Whatever you say, man. Catch ya later. Don't keep me waiting."

Everyone must be fucking blind. Or stupid. Or, most probably, _both_.

The girl's clearly in distress, and _he _out of people noticed it.

Not the frog bitch, not the motherfucker with the engines, not even _Deku_. And he's been watching them too, waiting to catch any conversation, any look that held even a hint of concern.

But _no_, they've all been acting like everything's just fuckin' peaches and cream, kissing ass as always. _Fuck_.

What the hell were they even trained for? It's written all over her face, which they've been breathing onto for hours now.

He doesn't move from his seat when everybody starts to leave the classroom. He doesn't keep his eyes off of her, either. He waits for her. Waits for them to be alone.

She holds her bag in her left hand and begins to make her way out of the room, shoulders so tense they'd probably fuckin' shatter if he touched them.

That's when he stands and catches up to her. Her short ass legs don't help her at all.

He shoves his left arm into her right shoulder, just hard enough to see her lurch forward, in pain.

_I fucking knew it_.

He ignores the quick little twist in his gut.

She steadies herself in an instant, stock straight like she's a soldier or some shit. He's sure she's done that plenty of times today.

He looks down at her with a scowl.

And like the fake little bitch she is, she beams up at him. A fading lightbulb trying to act like the fucking sun.

"Oh, sorry. Didn't see you there, Bakugo. How was your summer?" She may be a shit actress, but at least she's prepared.

"Cut the shit, moon face. Why the _fuck_ are you in school?"

He sees her physically restrain herself from cringing before stuttering out her useless response.

"W-what are you talking about? I —"

"Do you think I'm a fuckin' _idiot_? I _saw you_ that night," he seethes through his teeth, "and you're out here acting like some kinda —"

"You were there…" she whispers, eyes bugging out even more than they usually do. She isn't even denying it.

"Yeah, _I was there._ I wasn't sure until I saw you today."

"That's… that was you that I saw," she continues, lost in some sort of fucking trance. Did he stutter?

"_Yes_. I'll ask you _one more time_. Why. Are. You. _Here_?"

He saw blood that night. Hers.

She looks up at him all _desperate_, and his stomach turns again. _Fuck, fuck, fuck_.

"Bakugo," she says frantically, like she's being hunted down, "don't tell anyone about what you saw. Whatever you saw. _Please_. No one can know."

"The fuck? Why not?"

"_No one can know_. Only Mr. Aizawa knows I've been hurt. Just —"

"What the fuck even happened to you? You may as well tell me."

"Can we… not talk about it here? Anybody could walk in right now."

Fuck if he cares.

"_Tell me_."

She sighs, and he swears she's literally deflating. "Bakugo…"

He walks past her and towards the door. "I was wondering why those idiots weren't flocking over you. I guess they will once I tell them their precious little angel's been hurt."

Just as planned, she's tugging at his arm and then holding it to her chest. He doesn't hate the feeling. But that's not important right now.

"Please. _Don't._" The girl's on the verge of tears, her round ass cheeks puffy and pink. He wasn't really gonna tell anybody her business, but fuck if this wasn't worth her reaction.

"You know what I want, angel face." He can't help but smile now.

She lets go of his arm with a pout and wipes the tears away. Thank fuck.

"Around two weeks ago… when you saw me," she begins, looking down at her feet instead of him. "I was attacked. I was on patrol, and… nobody knows who it was. I don't remember much, but I do remember slamming into a wall the second I was alone…"

She bites her lip and shakes her head. His stomach hurts.

"Not the first time something like this has happened before," she laughs weakly. "Y'know, being attacked randomly. I'm working with the police still to find out who may have targeted me. They suspect it was planned, or that I was being followed. But anyway, I suffered from a head wound and a concussion."

He visibly cringes, and she chuckles awkwardly. God, that was the blood he saw leaking down the side of her lifeless face.

"Wait for it, that's not all. Three broken ribs on my right side, along with a nasty bruise. Another bruise on my left arm from hitting a brick wall. The hit was so sudden and so strong, I pretty much knocked out instantly."

He's not sure what kinda face he's making exactly, 'cause it's a sort of mix between shock, anger, and… _sympathy_. Whatever the hell it is, it's enough to make her laugh again, but it's not enough to change much of anything.

"What in the actual _fuck_, Uraraka."

"I know, I know. But I'm mostly healed now, save for my ribs. Recovery Girl told me I needed to take it slow. She —"

"What the _fuck_."

She raises one of her damn Shiba Inu brows like _he's _the annoying one. "If you were so worried, why didn't you just shoot me a text? We're friends, y'know. Even though you don't want to admit it."

They're both taken aback at her quick response, but he gets himself together before he loses his place.

"Tch. I told you I wasn't _sure_. And when the fuck have I ever texted you? What would you have wanted me to say? 'Yo, round face. I think I saw you on the brink of death the other night. You're breathin' 'n' shit, right?' Anyway, I ain't stopping you 'cause I'm _worried_. Your little act is fucking irritating. _Cut it out_."

"You're the only one who noticed anything, Bakugo, and that's because you saw me that night," she says, trailing off into a whisper and looking around, as if they weren't the only people in the room. "You have to promise me you won't tell anyone."

"_Tch_. Fine. Whatever. I'll keep your damn secret."

She sighs in relief. "Thank you. You don't know how much that means to me."

His ears feel hot. She reaches for the door handle, but it turns before she can even touch it.

Oh, it opens, too.

"Uraraka! Kacchan? Oh, I forgot something…" the fucking nerd says, blushing like a little bitch. Fuck was he blushing for?

Bakugo rolls his eyes and shoots Uraraka a glance. One that told her they weren't finished talking.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, Deku, everything's fine! We still meeting up later? You gotta catch me up on your summer!"

He leaves the room and fights the urge to steal one last look at her.

He'll find her later.

* * *

She's still in a lot of pain. Her whole right side is sore, and it hurts when she breathes in too fast or bends just a bit too far. Whoever did this to her must _hate _her.

She's useless. For now, at least.

With the help of Recovery Girl, she's healed a whole lot in the past couple of weeks. But since the injuries were so severe, and she lost a good amount of blood and energy, her ribs were left to heal a bit on their own. It was a different brand of torture.

But that's the life of a pro hero, isn't it? Tearing yourself a part for the greater good. Except, in this case, someone, some_thing_ got a cheap shot in the one second she wasn't looking. And this is the price she pays. She's pathetic. Bakugo confirmed it for her when he stared her down, calling her out for the fake she is.

But it was better than letting anyone know.

How could she let anyone worry? Even seeing that glimpse of worry in his eyes made her heart sink all the way down to the pit of her stomach. He denied it, of course, but if the roles were reversed, she'd be worried, too. The last thing she ever wants to be is a burden. And god, does she feel like one.

She feels a soft shaking of her shoulder before snapping back to reality.

"You feeling okay, Uraraka?" sweet Tsu says.

They'd been reviewing their notes for the day in the common room, trying to rewire their brains from summer break. Deku had left not too long ago, mumbling something about training. The other girls were chatting away around them, books open yet unread. It comforts her to be back here, despite the discomfort of her hidden injuries. The heat didn't help, either.

"Yeah, I'm just so _tired_." She makes a bit of a show by closing her eyes and leaning her head on her friend's shoulder. "I missed school, and I missed you guys. But I don't think any of us were mentally prepared for the academic workload."

"It's only going to get harder from here," she says, softly ribbeting. "Imagine what our third year is going to be like."

"I don't want to," Uraraka pouts.

"I can't wait to see how _hot_ I'm gonna look in third year! I filled out even more over the summer! Don't you girls think?" Mina says, winking.

"You sure did. And I sure… didn't," Jirou says, looking down at her chest. Uraraka giggles, but even that hurts. She tries her best to hide her grimace, but she feels Tsu's eyes on her, observing like she always does.

Out of all people, Bakugo couldn't have been the only one to notice. Her classmates were smart and perceptive. Either she was actually a great actress, contrary to what Bakugo said, or they just… didn't notice. She doesn't know what's harder to believe.

"Are you sure you're okay? You look like you're in pain."

"_Cramps_!" Uraraka blurts out, heat spreading all over her face. "Terrible, awful cramps. I'm trying to keep away from pain killers, my mom told me how they're bad for you if you have too many, plus they can get expensive…"

"Would you like some tea?" Momo looks at her with that same _worry_ she's seen enough of today, and it makes her jump to her feet.

"No, it's okay. I got it! Gotta move around, moving always helps!"

"Hell yes. You're an _independent woman_," Mina says, shooting her a thumbs up.

Uraraka smiles, but she's sure she looks deranged, and practically waddles over to the kitchen to prepare the tea she doesn't actually want. Why the _hell_ does she always lose her cool the second she feels like someone's coming onto her?! She _is _a bad actress, isn't she! God!

She stands on her tiptoes and reaches for a mug from the cupboard, pinky up as always. Someone's breath hits the back of her head.

"_Deku!_"

Since Uraraka is not taking anymore chances, she took that same mug and _smashed_ it into the side of his face the instant she turned around. She regretted it immediately.

He stumbles to the side, and she reaches for his arm, ignoring the pain that shoots up her side.

"I'm _so sorry_ Deku I don't know what I was thinking holycrapIamtheabsoluteworstpleaseforgiveme—"

"It's okay," he says gently. He's rubbing the side of his face, still offering her that kind smile of his, even though she almost gave _him_ a concussion. It makes her chest ache.

Without thinking, she reaches over and places her hand over his. His skin is warm under hers.

"I am the _worst_," she practically wails, chin wobbling. Now she's gonna _cry_? Bakugo was right! She _is _annoying! She drops her head down, the top of it brushing against his chest.

"Hey," he says, a little waver in his voice. "I've taken worse hits. But you've gotten really _strong_ haven't you, Ochako?"

At the sound of her name she perks up, forgetting her fight with the tears in her eyes. His face is _red_, and hers is soon after as well. She retracts her hand and begins to twiddle her fingers together. She pushed those feelings far, far away! Why were they back?

"Oh, it's nothing! I learned a lot over the summer, I guess I've gotten stronger, y'know, training and patrol and stuff." She bites her lip, wanting to slap herself. To run. To get away from him before she tells him everything. 'Cause out of everyone, he's the one she really can't stand lying to.

And yet.

"Hey, you feeling okay?" he says. She is losing her _grip_ isn't she? It's only the first day! Literally the first day back and she's —

"Woah, woah, woah, what's that look on your face? Uraraka?" He's gripping her arms now, keeping her upright. She wants to give into his support. Her knees feel so weak. She _is_ weak.

"_I have cramps_!"

Poor Deku couldn't get any redder.

"O-oh."

"_So how was your training session_?" she squeaks, pulling at the front pieces of her hair.

"G-g-good! Yeah! Good, even Kacchan joined in. I really missed all of this, even though it's been just a couple of months," he manages, stumbling through his words. Her back stiffens at the thought of _him_.

"I'm glad you guys are friends! Training together! Woo!" She punches the air in front if her, just shy of touching his shoulder.

"You could say that," he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. He bites his lip, like he's hesitating.

"Well, I should get back to —"

"I'm sorry for being so forward, Uraraka, but what were you and Kacchan talking about earlier? You looked… pretty scared."

"Oh, nothing! He caught me off guard, that's all."

He definitely knows she's lying straight through her teeth. She knows that look on his face, knows how he knows the both of them. It breaks her heart that she even has to lie in the first place. She holds her breath.

After a beat, he sighs, giving her that sweet smile of his. She realizes that he's a bit taller now, just an inch or two. Uraraka has to crane her neck a bit more than before to look at him. A sheen of sweat covers his skin, and his shirt is sticking to his body. He looks… cute.

She's going to burst into flames.

He runs a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at her.

"Well, I just came here for a drink. But listen…" he looks down at his feet before locking eyes with her, brows furrowed. "You know you can tell me anything, right? I'm always here for you. Always."

She can't help but melt at his sincerity. He always would, wouldn't he? Even when she's keeping something so detrimental from him. She tilts her head, a bit in awe.

"I know. I feel the same way, Deku. Sorry for being… weird. And for hitting you in your face with a mug. Y'know. _Girl problems_."

He chuckles nervously. Did she mention that she's the absolute worst?

"I'll catch you later, okay? Gotta keep on training!"

"Go, Deku, go!" She gives him both of her thumbs up, and drops them the moment he turns around. She didn't realize just how _exhausting_ it would be to keep this act up. And she's just barely getting through with it!

What was she even doing in the kitchen in the first place?

Slowly, she makes her way back to the common room, where the girls start giggling.

"Did something happen?"

They giggle even louder. Uraraka tilts her head. "Umm… did I miss something?"

"Nah, you hit it straight in the face," Mina says before busting out into laughter.

Oh no. They _saw_?!

For the millionth time today, Uraraka's blushes, hiding her face in her hands. "Oh _no_. You guys were spying on me?"

"Yeah. Well, just Toru. We saw Deku coming through and we just had a feeling it'd be good…" Jirou snickers.

"I'm so _embarrassed! _I almost _broke_ his _face!_"

There's silence. And then a chorus of _pfffftts_.

She should've went to bed.

"Don't worry, I'm sure he still _loooves_ ya," Mina teases. It makes Uraraka stumble. She catches herself on the couch, holding onto it for dear life. She truly did love her friends, but they were really _relentless_ sometimes.

"Well would ya look at the time! Gotta go!" Uraraka breathes before grabbing all her books and shoving them into her bag.

"It's, like, 6 in the evening."

"_Almost my bath time!_"

She's embarrassed herself _enough_ today. She walks as fast as she can to the elevator and hits "4" like a madwoman. _The worst!_

She gets to her room as fast as she can and shuts the door, resting her cheek on it. She left the air conditioner on, a luxury she's never had before, so her room wouldn't be sticky and gross. Ochako closes her eyes and tries to steady her heartbeat, breathing deeply. In, out, until her back and side start to ache from standing too long.

She slumps onto her bed, careful to lay gently. Normally, she'd have some energy left around this time of day, but with her injury, she's drained of it all. Who was she kidding, thinking she could hide this from everyone? She nearly exposed herself twice! And actually did once before that!

Ugh, _Bakugo_. What a _jerk_.

Except that she knows he means well. Over the past year, she's learned how to decipher the real meaning behind his words. Or, at least, she's better at it than before. They don't talk much, and when they do, it isn't particularly _pleasant_, but still, they found that they work well together.

Too much has happened in the past year. The class has been through hell and back, being thrust into too many life-or-death situations than they could count. It put a strain on all of them, it changed them in ways they haven't even begun to understand. But it brought all of them closer.

Close enough to even call _Bakugo_ her friend. What a world she's living in. She still finds it hard to believe, and he must, too. The genuine shock on his face when she'd called him that earlier… neither of them ever really acknowledged it, did they?

Ochako sighs, reveling in the silence. Her back melts into the mattress, and she wants it to swallow her whole. Get her out of this painful existence for a little while.

She hasn't been sleeping much lately, despite the fact that she's been so tired. It's a constant fight with her thoughts. They keep on running back to that night, to the very moment her body erupted in pain. For all she's endured, it was such a shock to see just how… _fragile_ she truly is. As much as the thought hurts her, there was no denying it.

If she was just a bit faster, if she had just paid attention, she wouldn't be feeling this way now. But that's the bitterness of being a hero: there's always something you could've done better. Always another way you didn't think of. Always running the risk of injury or death. Always something that smacks you all the way back down to reality. She's been _lucky_. They've all been lucky.

And it looks like that luck may be running out.

She hears a faint ring, feels something brushing her shoulder. She watches the black behind her eyelids. Feels her heart beat too fast. It envelopes her and she drifts off, off, off and away.

* * *

Either she can't actually read, she's dead, she's asleep, or she just doesn't fear him.

He'll knock this damn door down if he has to knock one more time.

He texted her hours ago. Fuck was she doing?

_We're not done talking_, he said. _I'll be at your room by 10_, he said. _Open the fucking door_, he said.

He's not worried about her. Why the hell would he be? She's capable of taking care of herself. It's not like he feels _bad_ for her either.

No. Something more than her attack happened that night.

Just as he's ready to burn this shit down, the door swings open.

Her face is so fucking _puffy_.

"You look so fucking _puffy_."

"What're you doing here?" She looks surprised. Maybe she really doesn't know how to read.

"You sound like a damn frog."

"Are you just here to insult me?"

"Tch. I'm just pointing out the obvious. We need to _talk_."

She reaches up to rub her temple. "Can you not talk so loud? Did you forget about the concussion you forced me to tell you about?"

"I didn't force you to do anything. Let me in."

"Just give me a sec, I —"

That's when she runs to the bathroom, hand over her mouth. And to think he found her kinda _cute_ a second ago.

He lets himself in, turning on the lights. He's seen her room once, just a few months ago. It was still plain looking. But she's never really been flashy.

Once she's done puking her guts out, she looks even more like a mess.

"I've been waking up nauseous. _God_, I _hate_ throwing up," she whines, rubbing her face.

"Listen. Somethin' happened to me that night, too."

"_Ugh_, I need to drink some hot tea. And I need food. But I can barely eat. Oh my god, I miss eating _so much_. What time is it anyway? Oh —"

"_Did you fucking hear me?_"

She plops down on her bed before clutching her side, expression pained. With her eyes squeezed shut, she moans.

"It hurts, Bakugo. _A lot_."

"What the fuck am _I _supposed to do about it?"

"Stop being so rude! And loud."

"You don't fuckin' _listen_."

"_I'm listening now!_"

He growls at her. Over the past few months, she's really learned how to get on his nerves. He almost misses when she didn't talk to him at all.

Almost.

He turns to face the window, catching a glimpse of a shadow.

"I watched someone die. I think it's got something to do with what happened to you."


	3. bakugo's inability to feel fear

Bakugo ignores her the next day.

And the next. And the next. And the next. Oh, and the day after that, too. Basically just a whole bunch of days that Uraraka spent worrying about a boy she's never really had to worry about before.

And maybe she also spent it wondering if maybe she'd come off too intense or strong or if he actually found her ugly and gross and wants to stay far away from her for the rest of his days, just _maybe_. (Does she really care if he thinks she's ugly, though? He looks like an angry pomeranian when he gets all riled up, anyway. And not in a cute way.)

But that's just the crippling anxiety talking! Haha! Ahahaha!

In other words, Ochako's been steadily losing it. As her body healed _horribly_ slow, her mind slipped away from her twice as fast. Why wouldn't it? _Too much_ has happened. This past year, this past summer, these past two _weeks_.

So she drowns her sorrows in this nice, warm, _bubbly _bath. Because there is absolutely _nothing_ else to do in a situation like this.

She sinks down into the water, blissfully _alone_ in the girls' bathroom. She hasn't had a good amount of alone time in awhile. If she was by herself, then she was sleeping or studying. Or thinking about the night she was attacked. Or thinking about Bakugo and how he hasn't even breathed in her direction for nearly a week.

Yeah. Most definitely losing her mind.

Her side aches under the heat of the water, but it eventually fades into nothing, and Uraraka enjoys the silence. _Yeah, this is _exactly _what I need._

Keeping her injuries a secret was more stressful than she thought. She _hates_ lying, especially to her closest friends. It made her feel dirty, scummy. But it was for the best. Wasn't it?

How could she let anyone worry about her? Her parents had looked absolutely _destroyed_ when they saw her in the hospital after the incident. It completely broke her heart. There was too much happening all the time, and she was lucky enough to have such _wonderful_ friends who would feel awful about what happened to her, she'd feel the same — how could she do that to them? Pass on her burden?

It was a little easier to tell _him_. She knew he'd keep her secret, and that he wouldn't pity her. But Uraraka must be sleep deprived, or the brain concussion gave her some sort of lasting damage, because she could've sworn that she saw concern in his eyes the day she _did _tell him. If that's true, then that means he feels at least an ounce of care for her. And that must be why he acted so… _strange _the last time they spoke.

She doesn't know how she feels about that.

It could just be that their experiences were connected somehow.

Goosebumps shoot up her arms, and she wraps them around herself. That's the _last _thing she needs to think about right now.

She doesn't want to remember how her heart sank, looking at him. How he got closer to her and made it race, too.

Maybe it's better that he hasn't spoken to her since. A girl needs to take a breather every once in a while. But she can't deny that it stings a bit every time she looks his way and he doesn't even give her the time of day.

But maybe, just _maybe_, those were his eyes she felt on her back throughout class, whenever she slumped over her desk or she was talking to someone or when she was leaving the room.

Maybe he felt what she did. Maybe he wants to talk to her. Maybe he just doesn't know _how_.

But, as things usually go with her and Bakugo, she keeps a respectful distance and doesn't push or pry. He's never been the talking type, anyways.

Whatever _it_ was, whenever _it_ decides to come back around — if it ever does — they'll handle it. She'll handle it. _I need to focus on healing right now_.

Uraraka closes her eyes, sighing deeply. Yeah, she deserves this.

It's peaceful until it's not.

At the sound of her ancient phone going off, Uraraka jumps and _gasps_, and before she knows it, she's floating up in the air. She'd slapped her hands to her chest on instinct and set off her quirk! In a panic, she shrieks a "_release_!" before landing back in the bathtub, landing straight on her butt and splashing the water onto the floor.

First of all: _ouch_. Second of all: _why_.

Ochako groans in pain. Just when she'd finally relaxed, and her side had gotten used to the temperature of the bath, _this_ had to happen. She can't help but sob, the ache returning and spreading through her side. Even her brain feels rattled.

Guess her alone time's over.

She ignores the call, since she can't really _get up_ right now. Ochako takes her time lifting herself out of the tub, grabbing the fluffy towel she left on the side and drying herself off. She gently pats her ribs, cringing at the feeling. She needs her pain killers before it gets _worse_.

She gets dressed as quickly as possible and grabs her phone, not even bothering to check whoever had the great idea to call her. Everybody texts most of the time, anyways!

Once she reaches the common room, she remembers.

1-A was gathered around the TV, chatting away. Movie night. She totally forgot.

"_Uraraka_!" Mina shouts, waving her over. "You _forgot_ didn't you?"

Everybody's looking at her now.

Ochako chuckles nervously.

She wrings her hands together in the pocket of her oversized black hoodie. "Well…"

"Uraraka," a friendly voice calls, and she looks over at Deku. She can't help but smile. "Come sit!" he says, patting the seat on the floor next to him.

The truth is, she'd be more than happy to accept his offer is she didn't feel like her legs were going to give out any second now.

"Actually, I —"

"Don't tell me you're gonna skip out on _movie night_," Kirishima says, eyes bright and fiery. Was this… holy or sacred or something?

Well, Uraraka really _does _appreciate and treasure the time she spends with her classmates. Being in multiple life or death situations all together does that to you. But would they really not let her… go to her room? How does she get out of this without looking _very _suspicious?

"Well, I, uh —"

"_C'moooon_ Uraraka. We've been waiting for you! How come you didn't answer my call?!" Mina says.

Oh. If only she knew.

"I was taking a bath!" she says, doing her best to keep face without overdoing it. The pain was going away, but _slowly_, and she's scared it might act up again.

"We're gonna watch a horror movie! Do you _really_ wanna miss out?" Toru says from the corner of the couch.

"Hmmm… it's been… a tough week, y'know, and I'm very t-tired!" she stutters. God, she's just the _worst_ sometimes.

"Got somewhere to be?" Kaminari says, raising his brows with a smirk. Jirou smacks his arm. "Ignore him," she says, but that doesn't keep Uraraka's face from heating up. What was _that_ supposed to mean?!

"_E-excuse me_?"

"Don't speak to a _girl_ like that," Momo scolds, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's very impolite."

"So is skipping out on move night! We need the _whole_ class here!" Kirishima barks, standing. "Speaking of which… we're still missing one person."

She thinks she knows who.

Most _definitely _knows who.

There's no way out of this. She may as well get comfortable. As much as she admires and _loves _her classmates, they were… how could she put it nicely? Insufferable? Nah, just… _extra_.

She looks back over at Deku, who's smiling apologetically at her. He was just the sweetest, wasn't he? If there was anyone she admired the most, it was him.

She sighs, surrendering. At least Midoriya wouldn't harass her. He scoots over so she could sit between the arm of the couch and him. Tsu sat on his left, looking unbothered as usual.

"Sorry about that," he mumbles close to her ear.

"Don't apologize. I get it — we're a team, y'know?"

"Yeah. Of course." He bites his lip gently and then turns away from her, rubbing the back of his neck.

He was as innocent as ever, but still, he'd grown a lot in the past year. He was more mature, physically _and _emotionally, and not as much of a blushing mess (though that wasn't saying much).

Still, it's not like she'd want that to change about him.

Uraraka shivers. During summer, they _always_ keep the air conditioner cranked up high, and her little pink shorts and knee socks weren't enough to keep her legs warm. Deku, being the angel he is, notices this. "You want a blanket?" he says in her ear again, and it almost makes her warm.

"Yes please," she smiles.

"Here, _ribbit_, have mine," Tsu says, handing over a deep green blanket. She says her thanks and lays it over her crossed legs.

Ochako doesn't really think about it before she asks. "You wanna get under too, Deku?"

"Uhh, d-d-do I?" he instantly blushes and stutters. Why does she need her pain killers? She's got a free one right here!

"Mhm," she nods before pulling it over his lap. "Wouldn't want you getting cold now, would I?"

"T-thanks…"

"Don't mention it!"

"Get your fucking hands _off_ of me. I'm here already."

Uraraka's back goes stiff.

"Sorry, bro. I just missed you too much."

She doesn't need to turn around.

"_Definitely_."

That voice has been in her head for days.

For a second, she thinks she feels eyes on the back of her head, but then it's gone.

"Fuck is this?"

"Some horror movie. You into ghost shit, Bakugo?"

There's a beat before he grumbles.

"_Let's start this shit already_!"

"Okay, okay, damn!"

Ochako had a feeling she wouldn't like this movie much.

* * *

There was the thick scent of death, his bated breath, and the sickening thought that maybe he was afraid after all.

He's fuckin' seen death before. Hell, he's come close to it more times than he cares to remember. It's not a new concept to him. He's not an ignorant _dumbass_. It's not like he's _scared_ of it, either.

But what's he supposed to do when it looked so _unnatural_? When what he's seen was beyond any of the freaky shit he's had the misfortune of witnessing so far?

His mind still hangs onto every little detail, clawing through his skull and settling in the wound. Nothing's ever stuck with him like this, like a motherfucking _leech_, draining him of all his mental energy. Making him… _weak_.

God, thinking back to it makes his skin fuckin' crawl.

The son of a bitch, the _thing_, it must've known something about him. Must've wanted him to see it.

And it came after _her_ too.

He was in too much pain to do anything. Pain that belonged to her.

Who ever fucked with 'em, whoever decided to nearly _kill_ her and die right the fuck in front of him, Bakugo didn't really think it was _human_.

He doesn't tell her. He doesn't wanna tell her.

He only comes out of his head when she says his name so softly, it almost sounds like a dream.

"How can that be? That you felt what I did?"

He deepens his frown. Clenches his fist. "Fuck if I know."

If he knew, did she really think he'd be in her goddamn room right now? The way she looks at him pisses him off most of the time, but now, it makes him uneasy.

The unanswered questions. The unknowing. The fucking undeniable fear that he'd rather die a long, slow, painful death than succumb to.

One day, he'll choke.

"Do you think you felt it at the same time that it… happened?"

He wants to make her stop tapping her fucking fingers together. She's a sensory overload, one he wants to tear away at 'till she goes away, 'till she stops telling the truth without even fuckin' talking.

She's everything he's not, he thinks.

He shoves his hands in his pockets before he really goes and grabs hers. "Yeah."

She bites her lip, shifts around on her bed. He breathes through the lump in his throat.

So what if they had some weird ass fuckin' psychic connection? So what if it made him feel _connected_ to her? So what if he can't stop thinking about her?

Why was he here again? To _see_ her? Did he really wanna see her, talk to her? Have his guts twist and turn at the memories because of her? Watch her suffer too, pretend he's indifferent to it?

Holy shit, when did he turn into such a _pussy_?

"Bakugo…" she says again, and it wraps around him. Slams him back down to the ground.

He almost has to catch himself from lurching forward, like she released him from zero gravity or some shit. Like she's fuckin' pullin' him down.

_Compose your fucking self._

"Listen, Angelface, it was probably just some petty ass new villain with some weird ass quirk nobody's heard of."

"Some quirk…" she huffs, slouching. He didn't like that look she shot him beforehand. Like he had ten fuckin' heads. It makes the anxiety in the pit of his stomach fester, bubble, and pop.

"I'll find that fucker," he growls, rage building by the millisecond, "and I'll _kill them_."

He will. He'll kill 'em. He'll beat 'em to a bloody fucking pulp, _blow_ 'em up, _turn them into fucking ashes _—

"Bakugo…"

He doesn't know how, but she knocks him back down again, and he stares dumbly at the tears in her eyes. It's not like him to be so quiet in a moment like this, he knows this, but something is brewing under the surface. It's something that's got him frozen now, watching her lift herself up nice and slow and over to him.

He doesn't want to tell her. There's this sick feeling running down his body. Taking him the fuck over. He doesn't want her to know.

Whatever got to them, it got them good. She looks so tiny under him. She's practically breaking her damn neck to look up at him. He could almost see the string of rot between them, connecting them indefinitely.

They were in the right place and time, weren't they? _Weren't they?_

"Why're you fuckin' cryin', Angel?" he says, low and rough, no venom in his voice.

"You felt my pain, Bakugo…"

A tear rolls down her cheek. He hates it. He hates that his breath almost catches at the sight of her. He hates that he's stock still while his sanity slips. _Hates_ that they're even fucking here right now. _Despises_ the fact that maybe, maybe, maybe, after saying it out loud, _maybe_ that twist in his gut is fear.

"You felt my _pain_. I-I'm sorr—"

"Sorry for _what_?" he seethes. He has to cut it _out_, he has to jumpstart, get himself _moving _and _angry_.

Before the room starts spinning.

"It's my fault anything happened that night. I should've been more _careful_."

Her body so close to him is enough to make his skin prickle. He wants the heat, wants to step closer, wants to forget. It takes everything to tear away from her and back up.

"Your _whining_ isn't gonna help anything. I'm not fuckin' blaming you."

She nods her head, but the guilt on her face remains. He has to leave. Before he does something he'll regret.

What the fuck is this feeling? He can't help how shallow his breath starts to get.

It slips out of his mouth before he could really register it. "I'll kill that bastard. Kill 'em dead. It ain't your fault, Angel."

Was he…

"_Oh_," she sighs, and not out of relief.

Yeah, what the fuck was he saying anyway? He's losing himself. Bakugo knows this for sure when he finally looks her in the eyes, _those goddamn brown eyes_, and instead of turning his back and leaving her alone, he holds her down the same way she does to him.

It's strange to see someone and know exactly what they feel. Empathy was never a concern for Bakugo, let alone something he _practiced_. It was very rare when he held it, but when it came, it always threatened to drown him.

Except, right now, with Ochako knowing his burden, and carrying it too, it's like she released him.

Something beyond the realm of everything they've ever known lingers in their minds. His dreams and her injury. The constant feeling of being watched that settled on his spine. His breath and how it left him.

Ever since that night, he hasn't been himself. He could've gone on denying it for a bit longer, but she's got those fuckin' _eyes_.

Bakugo knows he's afraid 'cause he's looking at Ochako, and for once, his chest doesn't feel so tight.

* * *

He fucking hates this movie.

He wants to kill whoever made it.

He wants to kill Kirishima, too.

Except, _very _unfortunately, he's stuck sitting next to that motherfucker, shoved into the corner of the couch, stock still as the shitty ass movie offends his whole entire existence.

Just who the _fuck_ chose it? It was… weird as hell. It was giving him _chills_ from how weird it was. Like, he couldn't even _move_. What the hell?

It's not like it reminds him of that night. It's not like he's a _pussy_, either. Could he sue someone for making a movie so _shittily_?

On top of that, _she's _here. Sitting next to him. Well, on the floor. Under a blanket. With that _fucking nerd_.

She's clearly in pain, but since their class was a black hole, he's sure she got sucked into yet another lame ass "Movie Night." They act like they're going to _church _or some shit. A church for annoying _assholes_.

An ugly scream rips from the speakers. His whole entire body involuntary tenses as he watches the bitch on the screen get slammed into concrete. From the corner of his eye, he sees her flinch. And her hand gripping _his _wrist.

He sneers.

He doesn't know what to name the feeling that overcomes him, but it was enough to break him out of this _prison_ and stand. He brushes his foot against her lower back as he does, and hopes she's smart enough to get it.

"Gotta piss," he grumbles.

"Yeah, yeah," Kirishima says, totally eating the shit on the screen up.

He rolls his eyes and starts walking. Slower than usual. So that maybe a certain someone could take the hint and get their ass _up_.

But so what if she doesn't? Not his problem. He actually does need to piss. It's not like he was making an excuse to get out of this horrid, lame-ass get-together, or whatever the fuck it is, so he could talk to her after not talking to her for, like, a week or something, because he _wants_ to talk to her. No, not at all.

"I'll be right back," he hears faintly.

Bakugo smirks.

He heads down the hallway, knowing now that she was following behind him.

Except she walks right past him.

Is she fuckin' with him?

He'd be madder if the view wasn't so nice, though.

_What the fuck_?

He growls, shaking the thought from his head. _Her? Hell fuckin' no_.

He follows her into the kitchen, out of sight from everyone else. They were alone now. For the first time in — what was it? A week.

She's rummaging through the cupboards, who knows what the fuck she's trying to find, but he doesn't want to play whatever game she's getting at.

Just as he opens his mouth to speak, she turns to face him and _jumps_.

Guess she didn't take the hint after all.

"_Bakugo_!"

She lays her hand on her bad side, sucking in air through her teeth. Honestly, he didn't mean to scare her. He _thought_ she wasn't dumb.

"Ah, it _hurts_," she whimpers, leaning her arm on the counter and hunching over.

"Don't bend over like that. It'll make it worse," he says, automatically stepping towards her. With a firm grip on both her shoulders, he lifts her gently until she's standing straight again.

What was he doing?

… Why?

She stares at him, dumbfounded. She must he thinking the same fuckin' thing. He's careful not to betray his surprise, though, and shoves his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants.

"Fuck you looking at me like that for?"

"You, you… nevermind," she sighs, tugging on her hair.

"You're in pain."

She nods her head and bites her lip. He can't look away.

"Yeah. I was fine before, but then something happened and I hurt myself and then I was fine but then I hurt myself again…" she says, voice gradually lowering to a whisper. "I don't want them to hear," she adds, as if he didn't know this already.

"They're too stupid to notice."

"And you're not?"

"I'm the only one in this class who fucking _knows_."

"That's because I told you. Would you have noticed if I didn't?"

He hates that he thinks about it for a second.

"Of course I would. Who the fuck do you think I am?"

"The boy who drops a bomb on me and then doesn't speak to me at all for 5 days."

Huh. He thought it was a week.

"Fuck am I supposed to say?"

"A hi would be nice! Even a nod of acknowledgement. Heck, even one of your caveman grunts!"

"_Caveman grunts_?!"

"_Yes_!"

"I don't owe you _shit_. I don't owe _any of you _jack_shit_."

"But would it kill you to be a little… _civil_? You kinda just… told me something very scary and then acted like nothing ever happened," she says, tapping her fingertips together again. _So annoying_. "Something very… serious for the both of us. We can't just leave it at that." Her voice breaks, and she grips the counter. Closes her eyes.

When she opens them again, they're glassy. "I really don't like that movie."

He smirks. "Worst movie I've seen in my fuckin' life."

Uraraka smiles back, but it's pained. There are tears in the corners of her eyes. It makes his stomach turn.

_Again_. _Not again_.

"I tried to get out of it before it started, 'cause I needed to take my pain killers. But they just pulled me into it."

"Figures. They're fuckin' annoying."

So is this just a… casual conversation now?

"I need to get them. But I might take awhile. And I don't want anybody getting suspicious… so can you, like, cover for me? Somehow?"

"Why don't I just get them for you," he deadpans.

Wow. He _really_ just offered to do that, huh?

And she looks just as surprised.

"Are you sure? I mean, I —"

"Where are your fuckin' pills?"

"In my room, in my bathroom, behind the mirror… they're the only bottle of pills in there."

"Glad to hear." She rolls her eyes.

"Thank you Bakugo. It… means a lot."

Now _he _rolls his eyes.

"Whatever." He turns his back to her, halfway out the kitchen already. "Anything to get out of watching that shitty ass _movie_."

* * *

Again with the _strangeness_.

He seemed to be… expecting her. So that little touch on her back… that was on purpose, wasn't it?

No wonder why he looked at her like she was dumb. But it's not like she's in the greatest headspace at the moment! The pain returned when she had flinched at a rather _graphic _and _familiar_ scene in the movie. Honestly, who picked it? Was it some cruel joke on her?

And she still does _not_ know what was up with Kaminari's comment! Why did tonight have to be so stressful?! Even Deku wasn't enough to keep the pain at bay. _God_.

And now Bakugo… he was… being nice to her? In his own strange way, of course. He'd never really touched her before, at least outside of training. It was… _nice_ of him. And now he's being even _nicer_ by getting her pain killers for her.

How very… what else can she say? _Nice_.

Uraraka tries to occupy herself by looking through the cupboards for any snacks. She doesn't really have an appetite, but she noticed that the snacks on the common room table were practically gone, and she figures it would _decrease suspicion _if she got some more for everybody.

When she spots a pack of cookies, she _very carefully_ stretches to grab it. It is very much in her reach, short as she is, but any sudden movement was enough to irritate her ribs.

And just as she touches it —

"You alright, Uraraka?"

"_Ah_!" she shrieks. With the way she turns, her back hits the edge of the counter and the pain ignites yet again.

Could she _please_ get a break?

Ochako can't help but yelp. She swallows it quickly, but he _definitely _heard it.

"_Are you okay_?" Deku strides to her, laying a gentle hand on her arm.

"I'm okay, just… sore," she says, forcing herself to straighten out.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you! I really didn't!" he says with those puppy eyes of his.

"It's okay. Consider it payback for me hitting you in the face with a mug." She forces a chuckle, ignoring the sting that runs through her side.

He squeezes her arm. "No, this is different. You actually looked… scared during that movie, Uraraka. Like you…"

"... Like I what?" she says softly. Almost afraid of the answer.

"Like you… I don't know."

_Felt it before_?

"I scare easy," she lies.

"You've been gone for a little while, that's why I came to check on you…" he admits, growing red and running his hand through his hair.

"I was just looking for snacks for everybody!" she says, stifling a grimace from the sheer volume of her voice. It hurt even if she talked a bit too cheery!

"I'll help you." He smiles, and it makes her heart ache.

"You don't need to, Deku, it's okay," she says softly.

"No, I want to."

Then his strong hand is on her waist and he pulls her close to him.

* * *

"Relax, nerd, I ain't a fuckin' ghost."

He doesn't like the way he's got his hand on her.

He's got that dumbass "intimidating" look on his face, as if that worked on anybody before. It takes him a little too long to let her go.

He doesn't like how he doesn't like it.

Bakugo checks her — he grabbed her on her left side. Thankfully.

Thankfully? He's thinking of all sorts of weird shit tonight.

He doesn't stop himself from looking down at her legs, too. Pink shorts and knee high socks. It wasn't bad to look at.

_Weird_ shit.

"Get a room."

"W-wha-what? It's not like th-that!"

"Then don't grab her like you want to."

They're both the color of blood. He just couldn't deny himself the sick pleasure, could he? Maybe it'd stop that tugging in his chest.

"_I wasn't_! Uraraka, you know I wouldn't do anything like that to you, _right_?!" he spits in one breath, somehow getting even redder.

"Yeah, I know, I'm just —"

"Just what? Thinking about it?"

"_Noooo_!" Uraraka covers her face with her hands.

He stalks over to them and stands in between, back facing her. "What about you, Deku?" he smirks, tucking his hands in his pockets.

"W-why are you saying these things, Kacchan? It's inappropriate!"

"Hmm," he pretends to ponder, and hides the bottle in his hand. "You think you're too good to get a bit _frisky_, Deku?" He slips his hand out of his pocket and bends it behind his back, searching for her hoodie.

He doesn't know how the nerd's head hasn't combusted yet.

Bakugo finds the opening and slips the bottle in. "Just buyin' time," he says with a smirk before sauntering off.

Fuck it. He's going to bed.

* * *

He doesn't come back for the rest of the movie, and she can't tell if she's grateful or not.

Bakugo caught her so off guard, and then he was back to being a jerk again. Maybe it was just his way of covering up to give her her pills, but he _really_ couldn't think of anything else?! Besides that, it also seemed like he was… _bothered_ by what he saw when he walked back in the kitchen.

Strange, strange, strange, _strange_.

Ochako can't shake this strange feeling off.

She snuck a pill when Deku wasn't looking. She's got about half an hour, give or take, before she gets _really _drowsy.

She's too preoccupied to be scared anymore.

Deku doesn't share the blanket with her for the rest of the movie, and she doesn't question it. _God_, did he _really_ have to say those things?

When the movie ends, she says her good nights to everyone, who stayed in the common area talking away. Lord knows she's ready to _sleep_ all her troubles away. They were off tomorrow, too.

Well, today, since it just hit midnight. And the pill was ready to hit, as well. She feels the sweet feeling of _nothing_ coursing through her, and she has to fight her eyes from closing.

She almost falls asleep in the elevator, anyway.

And when she reaches her door, it's a lot softer than it should be. It's still _hard_, but also, like, _soft_.

(She loves modern medicine.)

Uraraka opens her eyelids slowly to see a skull. On someone's chest.

Oh.

"Oh," she drawls, "_you're not my door_."

"Yeah. This is mine."

"You think just 'cause I let you into my room that this is _your_ door?"

"You're on the boys' side of the dorm. This is my room."

She looks up into his eyes, and they're a lot softer than usual.

"Oh."

She lays her head on his chest and doesn't do much else.

"_Annoying_," he grumbles, and that's the last thing she hears before she drifts off.


	4. interlude

What else could she do?

"_Don't don't don't don't don't don't please, please —"_

Even his eyes are dying.

The fear taut in her stomach erupts again and spreads through her limbs, makes her blood freeze over. She's been here before, that's all she knows, all she could tell.

His breath, ragged and short, sounds like sinking under the earth.

What else could she do?

Other than hold his face in his hands, tight enough that _maybe the bleeding will stop maybe he'll stay maybe he won't go_ _don't leave don't leave don't leave_

She's pulling at his hair, maybe he'll stay.

Even she's dying.

She's saying his name bringing him so close that maybe he'll stay

_over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and _

"_ochako_"


	5. sleep & how it can traumatize you

**Author's Note:** Hello! Thank you all for reading/favoriting/reviewing! Forgive me for not updating for awhile. This fic is not my main focus right now, it's more of a side project. But I sure am having a lot of fun writing it!

I just want to warn y'all that this chapter, and this whole story really, will contain blood and ~spooky~ things. It's a little horror-esque, a little mysterish, a little psychological... like, I'm not Stephen King or whatever, but like, I really enjoy these types of elements and I'm having a hell of a time exploring them. There will also be some sexual content coming up *eyes emoji* so stay tuned for that!

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

"Are you _fucking _kidding me."

Does this girl have _any_ brain cells left after that concussion?

Damn, she's getting kinda fucking _heavy_, too. Her brain weighs too much for holding so _little_. If she wasn't already injured, he'd hurt her himself right about now.

Is she _snoring?_

"Are you _fucking kidding me_." Because once was _not enough_.

She actually starts _sliding down_ and he has to grab her arms to keep her from collapsing. Her cheek is pressing harder into his chest, like it's _soft._

And his chest is _not fucking soft._

He shakes her shoulder roughly, cursing her name and her mother and the sin she's committing right now, drooling all over his favorite _goddamn _shirt.

"God, you're _disgusting_," he utters and he _prays_ that it haunts her dreams.

That's when he hears the elevator moving.

"_Fuck_," he whispers before hooking his arm underneath hers and dragging her into his room.

He tries to hold her against the wall but she's practically a damn ragdoll, hanging there with loose limbs and a snapped neck.

He huffs and rolls his eyes. "You just couldn't find your own room, could you?"

She mumbles. _Mumbles_. He grabs her chin roughly and lifts her head, her hair a hot mess around her face.

Except she's still dead asleep. He releases her and her head drops back down on his shoulder.

"Don't fuckin' play with me," he says into her ear. "You better _not_ be."

She exhales deep and slow.

He can hear the guys outside his door, talking about some bullshit. He'll just wait for them to go away, then he'll pick her fatass up and put her in her rightfulplace.

But why would anything work out for him?

She says his name.

"_What did I say?_" he growls, cupping her jaw in his hand and lifting her head.

"_Bakugo…_" she whispers, something like smoke slithering out of her mouth. Like it's _cold_.

His heart begins to race, his grip even tighter than before. "Who the _fuck_ do you think you are, _huh?_ You really think you could _fuck _with me?" he says low, angry.

She frowns, her brows furrow. Like she heard him.

She opens her mouth slightly, his name slipping out again. But this time, it's tinged with something ugly, something that he doesn't want to give a name to.

He grabs her thighs and picks her up, using the momentum to have her head hang over his shoulder. He's quick to lay her on his bed, trying his best to avoid touching her where she's hurt.

Once she's down, she's squirming in place. Like she's tied up, struggling…

He nearly lurches forward.

A single drop of _red_ trickles down her temple. She trembles, a shaky sigh escaping her, and he knows it's a plea.

He reaches over, dipping a finger into the red and bringing it close. It runs like water down his palm before disappearing beneath his skin.

"_What the fuck_," he breathes.

Then the color turns thick on her skin, deep like fresh blood. Slowly trickling into her hair and down her cheek. She says his name, panic filling her voice.

"Bakugo… _Bakugo_," she utters, chest heaving.

"What? _What?_" he hisses, grabbing her wrist. But when he tries to pull it, her whole arm goes stiff, never going past her hip.

He lets her go, fumbling onto his knees by the bed. He can't help the way his eyes widen, or the way his chest constricts like he's closing in from the inside.

_What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck whatthefuck_

"Uraraka, wake the _fuck _up."

She whimpers, a tear slipping down her face. Her breath sounds more like stutters or sobs, each movement wracking her whole body in place. The stream of blood, _blood_, reaches her ear and falls past her jaw, slow like honey.

"Bagu-_Ka—"_

"_Uraraka_."

"_Katsu— don't."_

He stops breathing.

"Don't… _don't… please," _she whispers frantically, her voice cracking, more tears falling. "_Please._"

The blood trails down her throat, so linear it's disconcerting to fucking _see_. He tries to wipe it but it only stains, dark like spilled ink. His stomach churns.

"Uraraka," he breathes heavily, squeezing her shoulder. "Uraraka, _wake the fuck up_." He shakes her hard enough for her head to loll to the side, but her body is still stagnant, her veins visibly pulsing under some _invisible_ fucking pressure.

"_Katsuki_."

That's what breaks him. If he were to ever tell the truth.

What he thinks of that instant feels cruel, even for _him_. But he doesn't know what else to do.

How else to bring her back.

With a shaking hand, he takes the pocket of her hoodie and drags it up slowly, physically _cringing_ when her bottle of pain killers slips out the side and rolls off the bed and onto the floor.

A flare of hot anger bursts in his chest and then through his limbs.

He grits his teeth and tears her hoodie the rest of the way up, stopping at the tops of her ribs.

The tops of her _broken _ribs.

The bandage wrapped around her is thick and tight, but he could still see bruises bleeding under the sides of it.

He dry heaves. He feels the pressure of the blow all over again, slamming him into a spiral.

"_Fuck you_," he growls, smacking himself with a bit of a burn. He shakes his head and snaps himself out of the dizziness.

He leans over her, placing his palm over the right side of the bandage.

He hesitates before pressing in.

He sees the brown of her eyes before he sees the tears pouring from them.

She's silent for what must have been forever and a day and he _wishes_ it was, because the noise that rips out of her throat is so purely _pained_ that it sends the most sickening shivers down his spine.

He slaps a hand over her mouth and cups the back of her neck with the other. She doesn't look away from him.

He tries to say sorry with his eyes.

She rips his hand off of her mouth and hitches forward, her teeth sinking into his shoulder. She digs her nails into his bicep, scratching so hard he can feel the blood leaking, like her tears that are leaking into his shirt.

He doesn't realize he's got his fingers in her hair and holding her down to him until she sobs brokenly into his neck.

That's how they stay, until her breathing slows and his blood dries.

"Uraraka—" he says when it gets too much and he starts to pull away, but she wounds her arms around his neck like she'll _die _if he leaves and he doesn't know where to touch her so he doesn't touch her at all.

"You," she begins, hot against his skin. "_You…_"

"What happened, angel?" he says before he can think, sliding his hand over her back.

"_Died_." She grips the back of his shirt and wrings it in her hands, hot tears spilling fresh on his collarbone.

"Go to sleep," he says softly.

She whimpers. He reaches behind him and takes her wrists in his hands, trying to break them away but she only holds on tighter.

"C'mon, angel," he whispers in her ear. "Go to sleep." _I'm here._

Her arms fall loose around him, and he gently unwraps them. He guides her back down on the bed.

No blood. Not even a hint of it.

She blinks at him like she doesn't even believe he's there, like she's waiting for him to disappear.

And for the life of him, he doesn't know why he doesn't.

Maybe it's the sheer strangeness of it all. Maybe it's the fact that he can't actually leave his room without looking suspicious.

Or maybe it's that string of rot, bright red and gleaming, tugging at their chests as she succumbs to sleep.

* * *

When she wakes up, her whole entire body feels so wound up that her heart immediately starts to pump right out of her chest.

Every single part of her is _sore_, especially her ribs. Like she's taken a brand new beating.

It doesn't help that she feels someone watching her. Or that the sunlight is streaming right in her eyes.

Or that this room isn't hers.

She cranes her neck and twists her spine as best as she can, only to find Bakugo sitting in a chair next to _his_ bed. _Glaring._

"Buh—" she starts, but really, she's at a loss for words. How did…?

"Final-fucking-ly," he says gruffly, rubbing his tired face.

"Baku-_go_," she whispers.

"Urara-_ka_," he mocks. "_Tch. _Get outta my bed. It's Sunday and I want to fucking _sleep_."

"Y-you didn't sleep?"

He gives her a hard look, and doesn't miss the way it softens just _slightly_. "No." He blinks with bleary eyes, the bags underneath them purple like bruises.

"_Why?_"

"'Cause you decided— you really don't remember?"

Her stomach twists. What isn't she remembering? She racks her brain, trying to find something, the slightest semblance of _anything._

"_Bakugo,_" she says almost desperately, fear rounding the corner.

"Don't say my name."

The way he's looking at her, the stillness of him… the hairs on her arm stand. She gulps, tears pooling in her vision.

He only tears away from her to pick something off the ground. She hears a rattle and feels a wave of nausea come on.

He holds the bottle up, almost gingerly. "You're not taking these anymore."

_Right._ _I took those last night…_

"Why?" she asks, feeling stupid and small, like a child who's done wrong.

"Whoever's trying to get to you— _us," _he grits, the familiar rage contorting his expression, "was trying to do it through these pills."

That's when his palm sparks and destroys them all in an instant. She gapes at him, feeling the throbbing return in her head and side.

"_What?_" she finally manages.

"Do you remember waking up last night?" he says, cold again.

"No, n-nothing."

"What did you dream about?"

It catches her off guard, the softness in his voice, however little there is.

The burning smell hits her nose then and she gags, her body coming up forcefully. She grabs her chest and tries to breathe _deeply, slowly, in through your nose and out through your mouth_ but it doesn't keep her from coughing.

He's tugging her up roughly and it sends her head spinning once, twice, until she's stumbling back into him. He slings her arm over his shoulders and drags her to his bathroom, kneeling her over the toilet as he pushes the seat up.

Her body throws nothing but saliva up for awhile. Then there's nothing left in her and she's dry heaving, rocking back and forth. His palm is hot over the base of her neck and she tries to shake it away.

She sinks to the floor and presses her face to the cool tiles. He leaves her and she almost whines, but then he's back and picking her back up.

"Drink." He holds a water bottle to her lips and she lets him feed it to her, nearly choking when he tips it too far up.

"_Shit_," he mutters. She touches his forearm and he takes the bottle back, placing it on the floor.

"Thank you." She tries to smile but it comes out feeling wrong, because she's too exhausted to really move _anything_.

He stands up and lifts her swiftly from under her armpits instead of speaking. She wobbles on her feet, her knees buckling with the weight of herself. He's quick to press a hand into her back and hold her to him.

He looks down at her, face depleted of emotion. "You need to go back to sleep. In _your_ room."

"O-oh," she says, because it's all she has.

"Leave."

Somehow, her heart sinks and it shatters and somehow, someway, when he lets her go she doesn't fall.

Something in her feels torn with the way he isn't looking at her. Her legs are shaking so hard that her knees nearly give out again and she bumps against the door. She doesn't fight the overwhelm and she sobs like she lost something.

_I lost him. He's pushing me away._

She gulps, watching him climb into his bed and turn to face the wall. There's a tug at her chest and she grabs the door handle, turning it despite the violent tremor in her hands.

"Okay." She says it so quietly that it's air, and as he falls asleep, she slides over the door frame and into the hall, closing him off.

Then there's a warm hand closing over hers, a thumb rubbing over her knuckles. She doesn't have it in her to react. She only shifts her eyes to meet kind ones, eyes that weren't like _his_.

"Hey," he says softly, and it makes her feel like a helpless animal, dying on the road.

But it makes her lean forward. He holds her up, always as gentle as he is strong. She cries silently but he still hushes her, rubbing her back.

"C'mon. I'll take you back to your room."

She nods weakly against his shoulder, the warmth of him lulling her. He wraps his arms low around her waist and lifts her to the other side of the floor, and by the time he lays her on the bed, she's embraced by the nothingness of sleep.

* * *

He wakes up because some dumb motherfucker with a _death wish_ is knocking at his fucking _door_.

"Fuck. _OFF_."

"I need to talk to you, Kacchan."

Of course it's that fucking nerd. Because who the fuck _else _would it be?

Maybe today is the day he kills him. _Maybe_.

He's up in a flash despite the aching in his whole entire body, and the pain is hot everywhere. He grits his teeth and rips open the door, the fire flaring in his eyes, but he finds the same in his.

"What the _fuck _do you want?"

The nerd pushes past him and shuts the door, so calm despite his face. It's almost eerie seeing him like this.

"Kacchan."

"_What?_"

He remembers the way _she _said that not to long ago. He grinds his teeth together, shoulders tensing even more than they already have.

"What happened to Ochako?"

He feels ice prickle his veins.

"Fuck are you talking about?" he says, wary now, narrowing his eyes.

"I came earlier today because I figured you'd be up, at around eight," he begins, his stance rigid. "And just as I'm about to knock, Ochako comes out of your room."

"Ask _her_ why she was here. And why the fuck did you even come in the _first_ _place?" _he says, turning his back to him, frustrated at the way he's betraying himself.

"I came to ask if you wanted to train with me today."

He says nothing else. The silence draws his breath away from him.

"You got your answer. Leave."

"Why was she crying, Katsuki?"

That's when he turns so abruptly that his own head spins. Still, Deku doesn't react. His stare is almost blank, the emotion behind it restrained.

He gets so close that their noses touch.

"Get. The fuck. _Out_."

Just as he's about to shove him, Deku grabs his wrists, and his palms burn the skin there, sparks erupting.

Without a word, he releases him. A silent promise.

"There's nothing to know," he says, voice tight. He knows exactly what that stupid fuck is thinking.

He ignores the wave of nausea that rips through him.

"I didn't hurt her."

"I hope so."

Then he's gone, shutting the door soundlessly.

He doesn't realize that his nails have dug so deep into the heels of his hands until he reaches for his phone and sees red rimming the tips of his fingers.

He isn't shaking, he tells himself. He isn't fucking shaking right now.

"Twelve fucking _thirty?_"

No wonder why he feels _disgusting_. When was the last time he's slept in for this long?

Except, _I only slept for four fucking hours. _

Except, _I couldn't fucking sleep. _

Except, _I wish I didn't wake up._

He shakes the thoughts away, trudging to the bathroom and soaking his face in cold water.

He stares at himself in the mirror, gripping the sink. Counting all the veins he can see in the whites of his eyes.

His vision doubles. There's no focus anymore. He's never been so exhausted.

He's tense as he brushes his teeth, every slight movement hurting his shoulders and spine.

When he rinses his mouth, a chill courses through the heat.

He freezes.

There's a pressure at his vertebrae, something pressing slowly. He wraps his hand around the running water, trying to catch it.

Stifling the rising panic.

A drop of red falls on the porcelain in front of him, fading into the water. He cranes his neck up to his reflection.

Thick, soaked into his hair, trailing down the side of his face. He can feel the blood now, he can _hear_ it.

He pulls his arm back and throws it into the glass.

And just as his punch lands and shatter it all, he spots a smudge in the corner of it. Watching him.

He only knows he's injured when he looks down, fresh cuts splitting his knuckles open. His breathing is so ragged, sporadic like a hurt little kid, helpless and fragile and _breakable_, and he doesn't want to hear it anymore.

He quickly walks out of the bathroom, letting himself bleed. The stinging starts to set in in bits and pieces.

He paces back and forth, holding his breath. Trying to catch it. Holding it. Turning in circles.

Spinning.

When the world doesn't look like the world anymore, he collapses on his bed, clutching his chest and pulling on the string, trying to rip it. Trying to set himself _free_.

He's never felt so weak.

His phone vibrates next to him, over and over and over. He couldn't even answer it if he wanted to. He's _paralyzed_.

He knows it's her.

He just lays there. Useless.


	6. literally what is happening

Her hands shake violently, bloodied and dripping down her sleeve. There's no _way_ he's sleeping right now.

_Unbelievable! He's totally unbelievable!_

Each fresh cut stings with every small movement, so intense that she feels it in the vertebrae of her neck. She yelps and hisses, willing it away.

It's not _her _pain.

She calls and calls, tucking her hand underneath her arm with a grimace, knees bouncing so fast that her whole bed shakes.

"What the _hell_ are you _doing_, _Bakugo?!_" she grits, tears pooling in her eyes as something… _uncomfortable _tugs at her body.

Like something's trying to claw at her.

The weakest she's ever felt, and the most broken she's been all her life, and she's dragging herself to her feet. Fumbling to her bathroom, holding her breath at her reflection, opening the cabinet behind the mirror and grabbing her first aid kit.

_Maybe he didn't do it to himself. Maybe he's in danger. Maybe he needs help._

She could rationalize it a hundred and one different ways, all so that she has the courage to go and make it _stop._

She doesn't have the energy to panic over _why _or _how_ she can feel his pain. _Why_ he has it. She feels about halfway ready to fall back down but she forces her feet forward, trudging across the halls to his room, taking too long to open his door again.

Even her _wrists_ feel like they might snap in half with the pressure.

She has to use her whole body to turn the handle, and when she does she nearly falls in, the only thing keeping her up being the sight of him, too still, too quiet, too…

She _drops_ to her knees, a sudden weight dragging her below. Her skin stings in the same place his bleeds, dripping into his bed.

_God. God, please stop._

She presses her palms into the floor, curling her pinkies around her ring fingers. She cringes at the way her elbows threaten to buckle, but despite this, she crawls on hands and knees to him, each second leaving her more and more breathless.

She whimpers as a cold shock shoots through her arm. "_Bakugo…"_ she moans, pressing her forearms into his bed once she reaches it.

Excruciatingly slow, she lifts herself up, mouth wide open in a silent scream as all the pain concentrates inside of her.

So she knows it's not _her_ who makes the sound.

Another grunt comes from him, his face all twisted up and his eyes closed. She plops down, laying right beside him where his blood is soaked into his sheets.

She whispers his name, over and over, waiting for his voice to come back to her. And just like before, she cries.

She keeps crying as she recalls the night before.

A blurry remnant of a memory, the soul-destroying pressure on her ribs that she thinks may have pressed into her heart.

"_Baku-_" she sobs, reaching for his face, _"gooo…_ wake _up_."

She rubs her palm over his cheek, turning his head to face her. Her nails sink into the side of his neck and she pulls him forward like that, until his forehead rested on hers.

"Wake _up,_ wake up. Wake up wake up wake up wake up…" she whispers against his uneven breath, ghosting over her lips.

She shakes his head as hard as she can, but she can't keep going for long. Her muscles ache just from doing _that_ and now she's whining, hot tears spilling down her skin.

"Stop_ hurting _me."

And for once in her life, her prayer is answered.

It's answered with his eyes locking on hers, pupils so small they're barely there. Expressionless, for a moment, he stares. She doesn't breathe for that amount of time.

She's never seen him crumble.

His brows fall and scrunch together, his mouth wrenches into something pained. His eyes hit her in the gut and the brain. Then everything is numb except for her heart, so swollen with emotion that its beating is the only sound she can hear.

They lay in a liminal space, a making beyond them. There's the passive acknowledgement of something lurking in the corner. Something lurking in the corner. Somewhere.

And to cut through the haze, and so he doesn't cry, she leans in. She presses her lips to his.

She kisses him. And kisses him. And kisses him.

* * *

He kisses her. And kisses her. And kisses her.

And he keeps kissing her, trying to drink her up, like she's medicine.

Hell, she _is _medicine.

"_Mmm…_" she moans into him, rolling onto her back and wrapping her arms and legs tight around him. Pulling him down and keeping him warm. Keeping him _numb._

He groans as she sucks his bottom lip into her mouth. He presses his front to hers and wraps his hands around her warm thighs, and they're wrapped around his body, keeping him numb.

She's warm and sweet and soft and sugared tea, holding him so close that there's no air that hasn't belonged to her first. Candy dripping on his tongue, he slides his against hers and pulls her in even further.

He tastes his name and he thinks he says hers. He thinks he says her name, 'cause she's medicine and she's keeping him numb.

His hand burns on her hot skin, goosebumps rising despite it. His palm rough and pressed into her stomach, sucking her tongue into his mouth, his favorite kind of candy.

Powdered sugar and sugared tea and medicine. Strawberry, like when he was little.

Her eyes melt slowly like chocolate, barely opened and promising something he can't place.

"_Katsuki,_" she whispers, and he kisses it away.

"_Katsuki,_" she says, and he swallows it whole.

"_Katsuki,_" she pleads, and his soul cracks.

His vision clears onto her twisted expression. Horror. Confusion. _Longi—_

He _rips_ himself away, stumbling backwards until he hits the wall, banging his fist against it. "_What_ the _FUCK,_" he heaves, "was _THAT?_"

"_Bakug—_"

"Stop _fucking_ saying my _fucking NAME!_" he yells from deep down in his gut, panic cutting through his veins.

"_Shhhh!" _

"_SHUT THE FUCK UP!"_

The wall by her head is charred, and he doesn't know until she's curling up into the farthest corner of his bed.

The guilt fucking _punches _him in the gut and knocks the wind out of him. It _sinks_ his chest like iron in water.

And that's how he forgets himself.

"I'm _sorry_," he utters. He's stuck in place, eyes wild and frozen on her, rocking and sobbing. It hurts his ears. It hurts his chest. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

He finds himself walking to her, getting down on his knees in front of her. "I'm sorry, Ochako. I'm _sorry." _

He wraps his hands around her ankles, gently lifting a leg up and pressing his lips to her instep. He drags his kiss up to her knee before starting over at the other, so gently that he loses himself in it.

"Stop _hurting_ me…" she drawls into her hands, and he hugs her legs to his chest.

"I _hurt you?_" he says, scrambling onto the bed beside her. He inches his face towards hers, begging silently for her to look at him.

"Y-your _hand_."

He looks down at his knuckles dumbly, the blood drying into rust. "You felt it…"

"Ye-_ah_," she hiccups, finally wrapping her arms around her knees. Her dried tears seem to shine. "I felt it."

"Does it still hurt?"

"No… not after… _that_."

Then her eyes level with his and it brings him back. It cracks the sick fantasies and it makes him fucking _lurch _forward, the immediate discomfort making bile rise in his throat.

And just like him, she's helpless.

"Something's here," she rasps, the air so heavy that he's ready to choke. "You feel it too, right?"

He stares at her blankly, wondering why the rage isn't building. She only blinks like she understands just what's going on in his mind, but really, there's nothing there right now.

She says his name softly and he cringes at the way he jumps.

"I came because I wanted to help you," she starts with a shaky sigh, looking down at her hands curled up in her lap. "I brought my first aid kit."

"_Oh_," is all he can say.

"Do you mind getting it for me?" she asks softly, her cheeks turning pink.

Automatically he stands and grabs the kit where she dropped it on the floor. Something foul turns in his stomach.

"Thank you," she whispers when he brings it to her side. "Is it okay if I…" she gestures to his hand, and he snatches it away, curling it so tightly that the skin is ready to rip over his bones.

"_No._"

She narrows her gaze and pouts, some cross look that's never come his way. "Can you just let me _wrap it?_"

Without a word he stands, his jaw clenched so tightly that his teeth might break under the pressure. He walks into the bathroom and rinses his hand under the water.

He stares at the ugly, faded, swirl of red running down the drain. Listens to her shallow breath even though he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to, but he does, anyway, so he stares at the shards of glass scattered around the sink instead, but he regrets it 'cause all he can see is some fucking _lunatic _staring right back.

He wants to puke.

He wants to _want to _puke.

He should be disgusted, or at the very least, indifferent. He shouldn't give a shit. He shouldn't wanna go back and…

_Fuck._

He could _feel _her tongue on his still, something so definite and sure in the fucking _fog _of his memory. He can't believe it. _He can't fucking believe it._

Heat pools past the twist in his gut and straight to his cock. He squeezes his eyes shut and _fights_ it, body too hot and his heart punching the inside of his chest. He'll kill it, he has to, he'll _kill _the feeling.

But his mind betrays him. 'Cause in it he sees her on her knees, eyes glazed over, mouth wide open—

"_Are you okay?!"_

"Get. _Out._"

His voice _feels _unnatural coming out of his throat, like he's been split into two. He can't choose who to be. He doesn't know who's really _him._

He doesn't see her leave. He counts her steps as she walks, so delicate that they sound miles away.

He releases his grip on the sink, stumbling back and grasping at his chest as he gasps for air. He's gulping so much of it that his head spins, sweat rolling down his face, heat in his chest, sinking down his body, his clothes too tight. Something ugly and desperate clawing at his guts.

Fucking _singing _whatever semblance of reality he had, and then he's falling onto his knees, face pressed so hard into his bed because _maybe_ if he holds his breath he'll remember himself, except he _doesn't._

Her lips sliding wet against his, so fluid and open and _sweet,_ spreading thick and sparking throughout his body. He _tastes_ her and with that he palms himself roughly through his pants, fisting his sheets. Blood pumping so fast that all that keeps him on the ground is the relief that comes with touching himself.

In a second, his back is against the bed frame, his pants and underwear down past his knees, and then he's stroking himself from base to tip, each movement sending _waves_ of electricity from the center out, the tips of his limbs buzzing.

He goes _fast, _fast and bordering on the edge of _violent,_ the ache in his balls coming in and out. The noises come from the back of his throat, drawn out but also _huffs_ and something that might sound like a name.

_Her name._

His teeth cut into his bottom lip. Blood trickles onto his tongue.

He cums _hard _to the memory of her body against his, and only then does his head clear.

How _fucking—_

* * *

_Disgusting._

That's how she fights the _need _deep in her belly, her whole body trembling with it. She fights it with _shame_, but it only seems to fuel it.

_That's _disgusting. _Not him. Not _him…

The adrenaline makes her body so hot, but it lets her reach her door without the pain. She practically _throws _herself in, rushing to soak her face in cold water, but it's still so humid even with the air conditioner on and the water soaking her hairline and rolling down her neck and then the smell of his _sweat _invades her senses, sweeter and smokier than she ever cared to realize.

It was like some sort of deep, ancient attachment ingrained her to him, a need so _desperate _that no words could do it justice.

She kissed him, and he kissed her _back. _

It was so indescribably _awful_.

So… disgustingly _good._

She wants to _retch _or _sob, _or just float up into the air because gravity was doing nothing but _crushing _her. The aching between her legs _hurts._

_I need to. I need to. I _need _to._

She stumbles against the wall, her hair sticking to the back of her neck. Her whole body exploding from the inside out, slipping into lava, becoming a wildfire, gulping up all the oxygen and using it to _burn._

_He burns me, but it feels good. It feels good, good, goodgoodgood…_

She slides down to the floor, her sweat-slicked skin skidding loudly. The back of her head spins, like she's swinging, but she's not really there to feel it.

_If he was on me, we'd— _

"_UGH!"_ she grunts, digging her nails into the backs of her knees. Her legs feels so weak that she doesn't even let them fall, they just _do_, flat on the tiles and shaking.

She sobs wretchedly, trying to hate him. Trying to believe that she hated his touch, the pain in her center growing tenfold.

_It wasn't him, Ochako, and it wasn't me. It wasn't me, we weren't in control, we weren't ourselves…_

"I'm not me…" she whispers to herself before cutting her teeth into her bottom lip roughly, rolling her breast around in a single hand as the other slips underneath, where it matters, where she doesn't want it to matter.

She finds herself soaked and swollen.

All it takes is the memory of his lips against hers.

Her climax is so intense that her vision blurs and her toes go numb, stalling the utter humiliation from setting in. She revels in it for actual seconds before she slumps into a useless heap, her soul so sore that as she closes her eyes, she wishes she wouldn't open them again.

She focuses on the feeling of maybe her rib about to stab through her heart. Of the new bruises that will never heal. She leans into it, the physical pain nothing compared to the crushing weight of her failure.

A strand of hair grazes her cheek, like it was moving in a breeze. She topples over, sprawled on the floor, exhausted. Sick of being weak.

Sick of the void in her chest.

"Why him?" she says to no one, voice ruined. All the while longing.


	7. reality, except it's broken

She doesn't have to pretend like she doesn't want to acknowledge his existence.

It's a blessing, really. She can't believe that she _wanted _him around just the other day. To _talk _to her.

But now, his very presence is so off putting and _irritating_ that she actually wants to leave the classroom. She can't even pay attention. It's _so _off for her that she'd get whiplash if she wasn't so busy with the anger building inside of her.

It's like she's tuned into every single one of his movements. Every breath. Like what happened… _yesterday…_ gave her the ugliest sense of clarity.

Mr. Aizawa stares right into her soul. It takes her a moment to notice. She uncrosses her arms and folds her hands on her desk instead, forces her leg to stop bouncing. He nods. _See me after class._

She focuses on every single one of his words. She's hearing but she's not listening. It doesn't matter. It's keeping her grounded. It keeps her from sneaking glances behind her, just to see if _he's _looking. So she has an excuse to _hate _him even more.

"... any questions about the upcoming training?"

_Wait._

Mr. Aizawa looks blankly at everyone else except for her. Obviously. _Obviously._

_Did this seriously have to happen now?!_

In her sudden panic, she turns. Looks for him. Finds his eyes, arms crossed, burning her from the inside out.

She hates that it calms her down.

He shakes his head slightly. _It's fine. Turn around._

She does as he… told her? With his eyes? And fidgets in her seat. _It's okay. It's okay. Mr. Aizawa probably has a plan. _

_In, out. In, out. In, out, in, out, in out in out inoutinoitinout_

Ochako presses the pads of her fingers together, hoping that maybe the pressure would keep her together. God, why is this throwing her off so bad? Class is almost over. She can handle it! She can handle it. _Just breathe. Slowly. Deeply. Breathe..._

And then someone's laughing.

"Don't be a jerk, Kaminari!" Mina says as Jirou pinches him and he _yelps._

"I'm _sooorry. _I can't help it! Class has been over for like… two whole entire minutes… her _face_…" Kaminari says, snickering.

Ochako blushes. From the corner of her eye, she sees Deku frown.

"Are you tired, Ochako?" Tsu asks softly with kind eyes.

She sighs deeply and rests her cheek on the desk. "Yes, I am. I don't know why…"

"You should get some rest, then."

"I will, don't worry. I'll see you guys later, okay?" she says, burying her face into her arms and yawning.

"_Later!_" Mina sings, strutting away.

Ochako listens to everybody leave the classroom.

Except _him._

She holds her breath like it'll help her brace herself for what's to come. If she looks at him, she'll lose. She can't slip up again.

Mr. Aizawa peeks out the door in a manner so discreet she just barely notices before closing it.

"Why am I here," Bakugo deadpans. His voice shoots through her broken ribs.

"I understand that you're the only person in the whole class who knows about Uraraka's injuries."

"And how do you know that?"

"You're not as sly as you think you are."

Bakugo _hmphs_. She can hear him slouch back in his seat.

"I would tell you that it's in your best interest to tell the class about your injuries. It's taking a toll on you, Uraraka."

He says it like it's a simple fact. And for some reason, that hits her. _Hard._

Yeah, she _is _suffering from this. _A lot._

Her nose prickles, her face gets hot. No, she can't cry. She just _can't._ _No more._

And then her very own teacher's eyes get soft and she has to look away. She can barely breathe past the lump in her throat. She hugs herself, tries to soothe herself before she _loses it._

"The police are still investigating," he continues, voice gentle, like she's the only other person in the room. "To put it bluntly, they want to keep it under wraps. No one else can know."

She nods weakly, cursing herself as a single cold tear falls down her cheek.

"So, here's —"

"They're only fucking saying this _now?_"

She _almost_ turns to face him. _Almost. _She physically restrains herself from it. _I can't._

"It's not ideal, Bakugo. I'm not happy about it either. I wouldn't advise any of my students to go to such great lengths to hide something like this from their colleagues."

"So you _know _it's _BULLSHIT_."

"_Enough._" He says it with such finality that it makes the room feel cold. "_Listen_ to me. There is a mandatory training coming up next week. I need _you_ to help Uraraka maintain the image that she's able. Do you understand?"

He scoffs, and then the room feels hot instead. "How'm I supposed to do _that?_"

"I will be dividing the class into two's. You will keep her from physically straining herself."

"So… you want me to… _protect_ her?" and he says it like it's _despicable._

Her neck snaps. There's that whiplash.

"I don't _need_ your _protection._"

Even _she _can tell his heart isn't in it when he smiles that evil smile of his. "Apparently you do, moon face."

She tears her gaze away before she gets sucked in again. She begs in the silence for Mr. Aizawa to fix this. _Please._

"Uraraka."

"Yes, sir," she says quietly, voice trembling.

"I don't want to force you into this. But you have to understand that this… decreases any suspicions. That goes for you too, Bakugo. _Cooperate._"

"We done here?"

"For now."

With that, Bakugo swings his bag over his shoulder and shoves his hands into his pockets. He pulls the door open and shuts it behind him. She can't tell if it's easier to breathe or not.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Get some rest."

Ochako nods, willing herself to smile politely. She knows he cares and she appreciates it. He pats her shoulder once, and it's a bit awkward, but it makes her feel a little better.

The hall is empty, almost eerily quiet. She doesn't want to be alone here. Her legs are tired, but she walks faster, turning at the corner only to find that she's not actually by herself.

She should turn the other way, but she freezes.

He stands with his shoulder against the wall, unmoving.

"I'm not gonna be your tool."

She _recoils_ in disbelief, blinking rapidly. _What?!_

"Who _said _you were? What does that even _mean?_"

"It means, I don't want a part in whatever _you _started."

Is he _seriously—_

"Are you saying this was _my fault?_"

"It is."

"_What!"_

Then he's pushing himself forward and towering over her. His scent wraps around her and she kind of can't _handle it._

"Thought you weren't _weak_. Guess I was wrong."

She bares her teeth so hard they feel like they're about to _break. _Who does he think he is?!

She doesn't know how close she is to him until the tip of his nose brushes against hers. Still, she doesn't back down. Freaking _jerk._

"And I thought you weren't _dumb!_"

She hates how his laugh sparks through her. _Hates it._

"That's all you got for me, angel? _Tch._ Really knocking my expectations down."

"Quit being such a jerk! That wasn't my fault! I didn't decide to do that!"

"Oh, but you decided not to tell anybody, _angel._"

"And _you _decided to confront me about it!"

He turns away with a scoff, an unfitting grin etched across his face. He shoves his hands back into his pockets before slowly turning back to face her.

"And _you _decided to keep your guard down and get yourself hurt in the first place. None of this would've happened otherwise. This is _your _fault. I'm not gonna be _fuckin'_ dragged into this anymore. Got it?"

The rage is _burning_ her insides, but before it can spill out of her, she's burning on the outside.

A gust of wind and suddenly he has her pressed against him. His hands melting through the fabric on her lower back, through the hair at the base of her neck. _Safe._ She can feel their heartbeats, almost in sync.

Hesitantly, she faces him. He doesn't hide his shock.

"I-it was just the wind…" she stutters. She's scared to move her arms away from his chest.

His fingers flex around her neck, like he's making sure she's really there. Then everything he said makes sense. _He's scared. Of course he is... I'm scared, too._

"Um… it's okay," she whispers, shifting her hand so her palm rests on his chest as well. "It's nothing."

He rips himself away from her and walks away.

She doesn't know what she expected.

"Bakugo!" she calls after him. "_Hey!_"

_How does he walk so freaking fast?!_

She's speed walking after him, the light that was pouring through the windows dimming. She catches him at every turn, just a glimpse before he disappears down the corridors, over and over and over.

When did… these hallways get so _long?_

_And dark?_

Where the exit should be, there's _nothing._ Her blood chills and she calls his name again, the sense of _something_ pulling it out of her tightened throat. But the gray of the floor and the walls swallows the echo, and while there's no actual fog she _feels_ it, surrounding her and trying to make its way in.

Her body runs. But she can't move fast enough. Can't control her limbs, can't really _feel _them, like those dreams she's had. She expects to be struggling to catch her breath, but her lungs don't need it. There's no weight for her to need it. She's not running. She's not going anywhere.

She opens her palm and stares at the pads on her fingers, unfolding so slowly that maybe she's somewhere where gravity falls down. Like the bottom of the ocean, no light. Like when it's the dead of winter and your nose is so cold that when you scrunch it, it takes too long to go back down, and then she wants to be a kid again, even if she goes back to dreaming about where she is now.

_Aren't I dreaming right now? _The pressure presses black against her vision, dotting in around the corners and creeping to the center. Her head swirls without her body, but from the inside, some vertigo where a headache would be, and it's right in the slot of the headaches she's had. She should be nauseous right now.

But the ice in her veins doesn't freeze her. It keeps her standing. The dizziness isn't from

her body.

It's leeching off her.

She tries to stomp, to get the feeling back where it belongs, her legs splitting wider with each step. She _maybe_ feels her muscles reacting, her arms twitching, her voice its own entity and only being able to form his name.

She chokes on the air. It's being forced down her throat, and she tries not to swallow it. It fills her head. And her eyes. There's something sharp pressed against her temple.

"_Bastard._"

A single finger brushes her bangs to the side. Her neck feels nice. On something firm. He looks nice right here.

"Don't move."

She doesn't want to.

She can't.

Move.

"_Ka…_"

His rough palm on her jaw, her neck. Warm, warmly, "_Shh._"

"_Mmm…"_

"Not now, angel."

"_O.K," _she mouths.

She cups his face in her hands.

* * *

"It's okay…"

Something soft rubs under his chin, and maybe it's fingers splayed at the front of his neck. It makes him wanna go back down. _Sleep._

Then it's warm at his forehead too, so soft, like heather gray if it were a feeling. It's her thumb brushing against his chin. Isn't it? Who else could do this for him?

Her knuckles soothing across his temple, his cheek. Taking care. It doesn't matter how he got here. His body is so heavy that he doesn't need it to matter.

His head spins as it lands against her chest.

"_Shh._"

Her fingers latched into his hair. The floor is cold. Her heartbeat is warm. She cradles him and they both move with the thumps of her blood.

"I'm sorry… I thought I heard something…" she whispers as she relaxes, and then his neck is back on something soft. And her fingers, also something soft, trace over his brow.

"'_s over?_" he asks, but he doesn't know why he's asking it. He doesn't know what his body knows.

"I think so." And she gets it.

She's the only one who does.

"_Uraraka…_"

She dips lower, he can just barely see it through his half-closed eyes, but he feels it wholly. _"Hm?_" she breathes.

With shaking fingers, he presses them to her pulse. Her neck slick with sweat. _Real. Human._ _I know her._

He wiggles them to the back of her neck and hooks them there. Can't pull her in. But she comes closer, anyways. Wraps her arms around him. He sighs as her lips press gently against his forehead.

"We're safe now…"

"...'_oldin' you…_"

She kisses him again. Longer. She lingers. Her clean, sweet smell. "Hm?"

"_Ura… _I was _holdin'..."_

"No, I…"

"... _you._ I was. _Was._"

She freezes.

A drop of liquid heat hits him between the eyes and then they're open. Wide open. Dilated like hers above him, wild on some instinct that's thawing the numb through his insides.

She grabs his shirt with both hands, and he thinks it'll rip. Her fists shake so violently that they hit his chest on repeat, their heaving's on repeat, too, and even though he's laying down his knees are weak.

She inhales, but even that breaks in the middle. "Wwww-_what."_

Her breath stutters.

Her nails scratch at his skin. Baring her teeth. The tears in her eyes so big it actually looks like a cartoon.

He watches the stream of blood run down her face, thicker than cold honey. Running off like water. It's only when he blinks that it goes, and only then that he shoots up, his mind shutting down.

He grabs her hand and _pulls _her up in a single motion. She practically flies and falls forward, but he catches her by the arms and squeezes roughly.

"_No._"

She nods with her whole head and all her strength, and the moonlight pours over them and the floor. The desks out of order. _Very_ much so.

Like some sea splitting starting from the classroom door, no desk was where it should be. Scattered and turned over.

Who would believe them?

"We gotta fix this."

She's not shaking as hard now but she's _trembling, _like a small puppy who got spooked. He'd stare if he had the capacity. He had no desire to get lost in anything other than reality.

He misses having his mind where it should be. Someone's taking it.

Something almost _took _it.

He focuses on the way the desks scrape against the floor, how the vibrations go through his arms. He grounds himself like that. He wants to tell her how to. But she knows, doesn't she? She knows it better than he ever could.

He doesn't know how long it takes the fix everything. At least nothing was broken. He didn't even bother to check the time, let alone ask for it. It didn't even occur to him.

He doesn't want to know how much of it he lost. _They _lost.

When she wraps her hand around his wrist, he lets her keep it there. The doors are all there. They leave. And the air feels so _good._ So he stands there and closes his eyes.

She barely says his name and he barely grunts in response.

"Y-you wanna walk?"

Then it settles in.

The clouds cover half the stars, half the moon. He stares at them so he doesn't stare at her.

They don't even know what time it is. If it's past curfew. If someone is looking for them. Hell, at this point, he doesn't even know what _day _it is. It felt like too many and none at all.

He really wants to walk with her. He wants to take a long walk.

"Gotta go back."

She makes some noise, something like a hiccup or a gasp. "_Oy_! I forgot!"

He barely has the energy to speak. But for some reason, for her… "Yeah."

"I need to— _hm!_"

He turns so abruptly he even surprises himself. He remembered her head, suddenly, but nothing was there. He sighs a little.

"'s nothin'. My bad."

"Okay… okay."

She says that a lot.

She's still holding his wrist. He has to stop himself for going for her hand. He walks and she follows silently, the breeze feeling better than he's ever felt it in his whole entire _life._

And he could go the rest of his life without counting down minutes or hours. Time felt useless. It drained him. He never wants to look at a clock ever again.

They reach the dormitory. The lights are still on.

"I guess it wasn't that long…"

He pulls her to the side of the building, where it'd be hard for anyone to see. He could see her blushing in the dark.

"If anyone asks, say we were training."

"Do you think someone saw us?"

He shrugs and she pouts, squeezing his wrist.

"I guess it's time for bed…"

He shrugs again and her chin wobbles and he wants _nothing _more than to make it stop. But there's nothing in him anymore. He could collapse right now. He doesn't know how he still cares.

"...I don't want to be alone."

_Me neither._

It occurs to him that they're supposed to leave each other's side. And that he doesn't want to. He can't. He _can't._ And if he leans a bit forward, he's not gonna be able to keep himself up anymore, so he steps a single step forward, just close enough to her ear.

"Go up. I'll meet you in your room. Wait."

She rolls her lips together and nods, and he figures the tears pouring down her face are from relief.

"Gonna shower. Just wait f'me. Alright?"

"Okay," she smiles. "Okay. Me too."

He nods and steps back, eyes never straying from hers. He can't believe they need to not be close right now. He's so tired. He doesn't want to shower for too long.

She's floating in the air and he has to force himself to turn away.

When he walks in, he ignores all the people on the couches and heads toward the elevator.

"_Bakugo!_ You look like hell!"

He knows the voice, but he's too tired to think it. It hurts his brain to hear.

"Training."

He doesn't need this shit right now.

* * *

The adrenaline helps her get her clothes as fast as she can, which isn't very fast, and leave her room. She thinks she saw her phone on her bed. Did she really not take it today?

She's going out of her _mind._

She takes the elevator down and _gasps _as the doors open and she finds the same bloodshot eyes she couldn't look away from just now.

His brow twitches and he walks in past her, his knuckles grazing against her back and pushing her out gently. She finds the courage to walk, like he turned her back on.

"_Ochako! _Where've you been all day?!"

Her eyes can't focus on anything. She knows who said it, but the name won't come to her mind. She'd panic if she wasn't so exhausted from it.

"Training!" she musters, her voice giving out at the end.

"Yeah, you… look like hell…"

She smiles in their general direction and hugs her towel to her chest, hoping it's enough indication.

She makes it to the bathroom and shivers as she strips down. She makes the water hot and fights sleep the whole time, scrubbing herself of what her mind refuses to recall. It's _there, _in the back of her head, but she doesn't call it forth. It doesn't come. All she has of it is the growing ache in her body. God, her arms _hurt_ from washing her hair.

She finishes and dries off and dresses into her pajamas, an oversized shirt and shorts.

When she opens her bedroom door, he isn't there. She wants to _sob._

So she does.

"_I told you…_" she practically whines, like some child, like he actually _betrayed _her. She knows he's coming, but she wants him here, _now. _

In the bathroom, she takes one look at her reflection and looks down, embarrassed. She brushes her teeth and washes her face and suddenly, she feels like she's little again, dreading sleep because it meant she'd have another nightmare. She misses her parents so much. _So much._

She keeps the lights on and climbs in under the sheets, her tears soaking her pillow, her cries growing silent and weak. Her chest is painfully full of sorrow, the childhood kind. She wonders how she's here. How is she alone? Her sadness must be overpowering her fear. Even with her blanket, she's still cold. She doesn't want to be cold.

She stares at the black behind the lids of her eyes and that's when her door creaks open.

She smiles into her sob.

"You want the lights on?"

"_Yeah,_" she croaks.

He walks towards her, hair still wet. "Move over," he says gruffly, and she complies, scooching over to the wall. She feels herself relax as he slides in next to her.

Then her whole body goes fuzzy when he curls up behind her, pressing his chest to her back. His breath is soft as it hits the back of her ear, each exhale sending tingles through her, like lullabies. His arm is the nice kind of heavy over her waist, and she gives in.

_Safe._

It doesn't take long for her to drift off. And as she goes, she thinks it's a kiss she feels on the back of her head.


	8. a tragic comedy

**Author's Note: **I hope everyone is safe & well! Just wanna let y'all know that if you're confused about whats going on in this fic, you're gonna be confused for awhile lmao.

This chapter is a bit lighter. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

She drools in her sleep.

He doesn't want to learn this. He did so against his will.

He's not really surprised that she lives this way, her upper body twisted so that her face is up to the ceiling while her legs are still laying on the side and tucked between his.

Then there's her hot, heavy ass arm flung over his neck.

_Fucking weirdo._

His head hurts a bit and her hair smells like strawberries and cream or some shit. It's practically up his nostrils and when he shifts a bit, he realizes that his hand is over her ribs and yuhh. Thoughtlessly, he pulls her in closer, like he twitched except he didn't. He really _didn't _and he doesn't think that he cares.

She's warm. Warm enough to make him doze off again, only slightly aware of his other arm tucked beneath her neck and his hand beneath the pillow. He sighs and leans his head in until his nose is pressed against her cheek.

And it's nice. The way their bodies are settled together. The way she's stretching, unfurling like a cat and arching against him, and that's when he _feels it._

He grabs her hip and pushes it forward before he _dies._

His eyes feel dry and cracked, staring straight ahead and avoiding _her._ The room is dark. The sun still hasn't come up. Why does this surprise him?

It was supposed to be a dream. And right now is supposed to be dreamless. But how else could he explain to himself how he got here? He _feels _her in more ways than _one._

He slides his arm out from under her, asleep for fuck knows how long, and gently pushes her forward by her hip as he pulls his legs away from hers. He immediately shivers. Is her room seriously always this _fucking_ _cold? _He swallows his regret and stands up slowly, as noiselessly as possible, and fixes her blanket.

Maybe she won't remember. Maybe she'll think it was all a dream. Hell, he's mostly convinced it was. Nothing… makes _sense._

Especially how there's heat filling up his veins as her small hand grabs his arm just as he turns away.

"_Where're you going?_" she mumbles, her eyes barely opened. Her hand slips down to his wrist and _yeah, she held it. Not too long ago._

"Bed." He can hardly speak.

She furrows her brows and moans, some half-hearted argument. She hasn't realized yet just how _wrong _it is for him to be here.

"I sleep good with you…" she pouts as her arm gives out and drops onto the bed.

He sighs. _Don't._ "Go back to sleep."

"_Mmm…_"

Before she can _kill _him dead he turns and walks towards the door, back so rigid that he thinks it might've turned to ice once he left that damn bed.

Then she whimpers his name.

He stands at her door, his hand right on the handle. His nails are purple. He was warm with her.

"_Bakugo,_" she says again, less of a whimper and more of a plea. What difference does it make if he stays?

But that's a stupid question. And he knows it.

"Until the sun comes up," she says, voice shaking and rough. "_Please?_"

He turns the handle right then. Both of these options felt _wrong. _Wrong beyond belief. He never thought he'd be here. It's not for him. He should want to be alone.

"_No!"_ she cries weakly.

The world is pitch black. A sliver of dawn illuminating just a fragment of the hall.

"Can you stay?"

He stares down it.

"Bakugo?"

He could walk through it.

"_Please?_"

_I could go._

_I should._

_Would._

"Don't go…" she whispers, sounding ice cold, sounding the way his hands feel.

_Not yet._

Her sigh of relief slumps his shoulders as he shuts the door.

"Just… just until the sun comes. It's… it's almost time."

She's sitting up, eyes red and wide. They'll need more sleep than they're gonna get.

But this might not be the kind of tired you can get over by staying in bed.

"Time."

"What?"

"Time."

"Uhhh…"

He walks over to her and slides in under the covers, pulling her down along the way. He fits her back into him, her back to his chest, an arm slung over her and the other tucked under.

"'m askin' what _time_ it is," he huffs, his eyes already shut.

Only because he recalls that maybe he _should _care about that.

"O-oh… sorry…"

He places his chin on top of her head. "Whatever."

"I've got my alarm on… don't worry…"

"Mm."

She's a fucking _heater_. _Man. _

Heat in his eyes.

Someone's soul burning out right in front of him.

Someone who looks like somebody he might know somehow, going out and leaving their body.

Then she's fading out and falling somewhere far. Her fingers soft on his face, stroking his cheeks, and she's wound around him. The string of red wound around his thumb cutting into his skin and his blood the same color as the thread.

He can't protect her but he'll die trying. He'll die the same way she could have, in a split second, a moment of weakness, her warm palms pressed onto his skin.

Her eyes are melted and soft and staring so deeply into his, he might choke on the sugar taste he gets.

She must not really be here. Bringing him back from another haze. Coming down. Waking up. Her thumb smoothing over his brow, flattening the crease in between.

"Did you have a bad dream?" she asks like a… like a _cloud._

He can't remember it. But the feeling…

He blinks, brows furrowed together,

his eyes feeling like he's only slept for a grand total of one fucking second. "_Weird_," he croaks.

She nods once, her knuckles grazing his cheek, eyes half-lidded. Her hair rich and golden in the sunlight.

"'s up…" she murmurs, her hand falling limp onto the pillow. "...thank you." Her shoulder slumps and her forehead presses against his neck.

And now he's frozen there. And for the _life_ of him, he can't decide. He can't find a piece of his mind that _functions._ He's lost to the limbo. In an echo of his dreams. She always seems to be there, under the stars.

He finds the poster on her wall.

And like a _slap _in the fucking face, she shakes _violently _by his side, the ugly sound of her alarm ringing through the room. With her, he sits up, his chest sore and empty, an exhaustion so heavy it leaves him feeling so fucking _old._

"_I'm sorry!" _she heaves, gripping her chest. It looks like she's gonna rip her own heart out. "I'm _sorry…"_ she wheezes.

Battery acid pools under his tongue from the lining of his throat. His first response to being _freed_. His second being tearing himself out of her bed, _her fucking bed._

"I'm _sorry, _I didn't mean to…" she _whines_.

The door handle is warm this time, the heat of the room is _suffocating, _even his handsare sweating. He never wants to come here again. Never again. _Never again._

His heart pumps steadily, harshly. His whole body seems to rack with it as he stills and stares at the light switch.

Off. It's off.

"_What is it?_"

She's behind him, her presence _burning _through him. He bares his teeth, his whole body stiff, eyes her from the corner of his vision.

No color in that goddamn moon face.

He leaves her alone. Again.

Just like should've. The way he couldn't before.

He left the lights on last night.

* * *

"Are you feeling well, Uraraka?" Iida asks, frowning.

She does not dare look up from the food that she _wishes _she wanted right now. Or _lie._

She's already sick of it.

"No, I'm not, honestly," she sighs, and covers her cool hand over her eyes.

It's so _cold _in the cafeteria, but she'd rather be cold than _hot. _Either way, nothing was comfortable for her anymore.

A slight pang hits her temple, the residue of another headache she had not too long ago. A wave of nausea rolls through her. Then her stomach growls.

Basically, her body hates her.

"'m hungry but… I can't eat…" she grumbles, tucking her face into her arms. She feels Tsu's hand rub her back, and it actually feels _really _nice. "Thank… _yooouuu_."

"Do you want to go to the nurse?" she asks softly.

"I can take you."

"No, Izuku, it's okay…"

But then he's grabbing her arm with a rougher hand than he's ever had, pulling her out of her seat. "We're going."

She tries to take her arm back, but fails. They're already walking. "W-what? No, I'm fine…"

"_Shutup _already," he hisses, bringing her closer to him. "Can you fuckin' walk? Do I really need to _drag _you?"

"Let… me… _ah!_" she yelps as he lifts her over his shoulder, his arm wrapped tightly around the backs of her thighs. "_Bakugo! _Stop!"

"Stop _what? Helping you? _Who the hell else knows 'bout you? Huh?"

"_Deku! _Deku does!" she says, her fists doing… absolutely nothing to him.

He _laughs, _and she feels it throughout her whole body. And just like before, she's warm, in that nice but still overwhelming way, buzzing through her… "No, angel. It's only me and you."

Then he's pulling her down his body, hooking her legs around his waist. She's absolutely _feeling _this, her arms around his neck, lips ghosting over his.

"Then _act _like it," she whispers before he leans in.

She catches herself in the middle of her daydream before it gets _worse_. A shiver _actually _runs through her.

What is _wrong _with her? Why is she imagining _highly unlikely scenarios _about…

_HIM?_

She scrunches her face and shakes her head of her sinful thoughts. She doesn't want to remember last night, the night before, or _anything_ before self-awareness became a thing for her.

She was supposed to have a self-indulgent fantasy about _Deku! Deku! _In order to escape the reality that she did things with _him!_

Deku wouldn't leave her after an extremely frightening discovery! Or after the best night's sleep she's had after _too long…_ he was _warm…_

_No! Stop being stupid! You have a whole entire career in front of you! Dreeaaams!_

"I do not _approve _of this, but… this is from Midoriya," Iida whispers to her before placing a folded piece of paper on her desk.

_Maybe he actually has a telepathy quirk and he knows _exactly _about what I just thought about and he wants to tell me that it was so _disgusting _that he's forced to reveal it and now he's begging me to stop._

Kirishima randomly turns to her, just for a second, this… _interested _look on his face. Her anxiety _doubles _as he smiles and turns back as if _he did not just do that._

_Can anyone hear me? Look at me if you can. Please!_

No one looks at her.

Well, she didn't notice that someone was looking _straight _at her. No, more than _someone_. _Two _someones, not being very discreet as their english lesson drones on.

Deku, his eyes soft and expectant, waiting for her to read his note.

Then Bakugo.

Ready to kill her.

_What did I do to him?! _

She can practically hear his _hmph _as he turns away.

She smiles awkwardly at Izuku, and he shares it before sinking his teeth into his lip. She should stop killing him with the waiting.

Before her paranoia kills her. Or Bakugo does. Whichever comes first.

She doesn't realize her hands are shaking until they're actually _struggling _to unfold a note. God, she's _embarrassing._

_Are you okay?_

So she had another panic attack for _nothing._

_Oh my god, I really thought he could read my mind?_

"_Pfft." _

_Oh no._

She _slaps _her hand over her mouth before she can get any louder. Wow, she is _dumb. _

Satou glances over at her, his brow raised. She waves her free hand at him and shakes her head, but it's not only for him. It's for poor Deku, a confused look on his face that just makes her want to laugh even _harder. _

Her body begins to shake with silent laughter. Wow, she is actually the _worst!_

"Uraraka… are you feeling well?" Iida whispers to her.

She _snorts._

_Oh god, when does this class end? I don't even remember!_

Then she makes the mistake of glancing over at him. Poor Deku is blushing away, this bewildering puppy look in his eyes. She needs to _stop _but she _can't!_

She can't even stop when she looks over to Bakugo, who's giving her the most _evil_ stare she's ever received.

_Who does he think he is?! He left me! Again!_

They don't even seem to realize that they're both openly staring at her at the same time. She buries her face in the crook of her arms, hiding herself behind Iida's body so she can shake in as much peace as she can get_._

_Why is this happening to me? _

She doesn't know who she's asking.

_This is so ridiculous!_

So is the fact that there's tears in her eyes. She inhales deeply and then holds it, trying to calm herself down as they fall down her face. Are they happy? Sad? She doesn't know. They just keep _coming._

She rubs her eyes into her sleeve and in the moment they aren't leaking tears, she raises her head and gives Deku a thumbs up, smiling at him with all her teeth.

He tilts his head, and she imagines how if he had dog ears, they'd flop over. He smiles back at her and shifts in his seat.

There's no _way _he believed that.

She stares straight ahead for the rest of class, giving into the growing fear of being found out by just a look. She doesn't even turn slightly in his direction.

Or _his._

_Especially _not his.

When class is over, she tries her absolute _best _to get all her stuff together and _leave _before anyone asks her questions. But her hands are shaking too hard and she's too weak to be anything other than clumsy.

She drops her notebook on the ground. Of course she does. Why wouldn't she? She plops back down in her seat and bends over by the waist, reaching down… by someone's shoes.

"Uraraka," he says. That's all he has to say, really.

She has to unfreeze herself and _act casual. _So she grabs her notebook. And then sits up, like a normal person.

Except she doesn't do that. She nearly _topples over _and before she can catch herself, he is.

"_Are you okay?"_ he asks, his hands delicately

holding her shoulders.

She sighs, forcing a laugh. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"I'm sorry, am I…" he lets go of her and stands straight, smiling shyly. "Am I asking you that too much?"

"You know what?" She props her chin into her hand. "I think you might be."

"I don't mean to bother you, I just… I've been… wait, is that why you were _laughing?"_ he blushes.

She can't help but giggle. "I don't know? I don't know why I laughed. I'm sorry. I think it might've been your face…"

Before she can stop herself, she throws her head back and laughs out loud. And it feels _good. _Especially when he laughs with her.

She gets her things and stands, craning her neck to look up at him. "You're just funny sometimes, Deku. But thanks. I really needed that."

He gives her a confident smile. "You're welcome."

They walk out of the classroom together, talking like they always had before. They walk down the same halls she was trapped in. But she's free now.

She just barely notices the lingering stare in the corner. _Barely._

She walks right past him.

* * *

_Yo where the hell r u?_

_Ur supposed to help me studdyyyy_

_Hellooooo_

Those are the only texts he reads from Kirishima. He doesn't need his brain to hurt anymore than this.

But then he starts calling. Over. And over. And over. And ov—

"_What. The fuck. _Do you. _Want."_

"Damn bro, I just called you once…"

"The _texts _weren't enough?"

"_Nah _man," Kirishima chuckles, and it is actually _grating _his ears. "You said you were gonna help me. So why aren't you helpin' me?"

"Go learn your own shit. Or find somebody else. I don't care."

"But I need to learn from the _best!"_

Bakugo growls.

And the motherfucker _laughs._

"Can I ask you something real quick?"

"Can I kill you real quick?"

"Why were you staring at Uraraka like you have some personal vendetta? Did she do something to you?"

"No. Bye."

He hangs up.

He can study by him fucking _self._

He didn't think he could get more _pissed. _Today had been actual _hell _with the burden of the knowledge that he spent all night with _her. _

_Her._

_HER._

Then she had the audacity to laugh at his _face._

What's fuckin' _worse _is that she looked shit scared, right until she looked him in the eyes and made the _ugliest _face he has ever seen in his whole entire life.

_I woke up to that shit._

Then there was _Deku's _dumbass, eating that shit right _up. _He'd _pity _him if he didn't wanna punch the lights out of him for acting like such a little _bitch, _giggling with her and walking with her down the halls. _Whew. _He's breathing _way _too hard now.

"Can't believe her… can't believe her… can't _fucking _believe her," he mutters, shooting off his bed and pacing back and forth.

He just _cannot _believe her.

His palms spark, over and over, smoke quickly circling around him. It calms him down only for a second but then her _face _keeps popping back into his head. Like she wasn't fucking _terrified _just a few hours _before._

He's the kind of infuriated where his _veins _burn. He wants to tear the fucking _world_ inside out.

She just wants to act like _nothing happened. Fine._ Like she wasn't _begging _him to stay with her. _Fuck._

_FUCK._

He draws his arm back, ready to fuckin' _swing_, but then it just… falls.

"_Fuck_," he mumbles, tugging at his hair.

He doesn't… did he even eat today?

The most _powerful _hunger pang makes him double over, clutching his stomach. _Holy fuck._

"Are you _fucking _kidding me," he says as his stomach growls.

He ate _anger _for breakfast and _rage_ for lunch. His stomach was so full of _utter disgust and animosity _that he simply couldn't eat.

So now he's slipping his slippers on and making his way down to the kitchen, hoping none of those _assholes _are gonna bother him.

When he comes done, all the assholes in the common area are the girls. Doing fuck all, as per usual. But one sticks out in particular. A big, sore, fat thumb with messy ass hair and not even looking his way.

Before anyone notices him, he trudges off and begins the search for _anything._

He's shoving crackers into his mouth, and he imagines shitty hair telling him not to eat his feelings. He immediately wants to choke him. He probably ate everything _good _here.

He hears someone dragging their feet behind him, and he's ready to _retreat_ until they come up next to him and just…

Don't say anything.

He stares at her. Dumbfounded, for whatever reason. Maybe it's the horrible bags under her eyes or the breakout on her cheek.

It's not that she's opening the cupboard and trying to reach for the cup. It's not that she's wearing _those _shorts again with those long socks.

It's _not_.

_She can't gravity herself up? Maybe she's too_

_much of a fatass._

He watches her struggle while he eats his shitty crackers. They're barely salted. He wants something spicy.

_Maybe her._

He nearly _blanches_ at the intrusive thought. _Dis-fucking-gusting._

"Are you—" he starts, the irritation really fucking _getting to him_ so he reaches for the dumbass pink mug she's probably reaching for with her short ass fucking _arms_, which he can't even see because they're swallowed by her gigantic hoodie. "Here you fuckin' _go._"

She takes it.

And without a word, she turns around.

"_You're welcome,_" he seethes.

Nothing.

_I cannot believe her. _

He scoffs and shoves his hands into the pockets of his pajamas. He's gonna _burn _something.

_It could be her clothes._

He clenches his jaw _tight._

"Didn't your parents teach you how to say _thank you?"_

She pours something in the mug. He regrets giving it to her.

So he pulls it away from her.

"Can I have that back, please?" she says plainly, eyes on his hand.

"Can you tell me what's _so_ fuckin' _funny_?" he says lowly, a millisecond away from giving into the impulse of forcing his eyes on her.

His fingers twitch. The ones closer to her thighs.

"Not you," she states, reaching out for the mug.

He pulls it back behind him and inches closer to her, bending so his eyes level with hers. "Then _what?_"

"Bakugo_,_" she sighs, emotion breaking through her face. "_Please."_

He chuckles bitterly before pulling his mouth into a thin line, his knuckles brushing against her leg, right below the hem of her shorts.

He doesn't miss the way her breath hitches, no matter how slight.

"Look at me."

She fights it for a little while, but that's all it takes. She blinks slowly before locking her gaze on his, an intensity about her he hasn't seen before.

He's seen her pissed off. Upset. Disappointed. But _this_?

Something rips his chest open.

"Leave me alone," she says, a tear dripping down her face.


	9. how to get high without drugs

"Why're you cryin' angel?"

He takes her wrist and brings her palm to his lips, the tips of her fingers resting on his cheek. He's never been more grounded.

"Don't go crying on me again. C'mon. It's alright…"

He holds her hand to his chest with one of his, the other gently cupping her face. Her tears are shards of ice on his skin.

"You trying to show me that you're pretty even when you cry, right?" He steps closer, his breath ghosting over her temple, a hint of a smile.

He slides his hand to the back of her neck, his thumb pushing her head up by the side of her jaw.

And pretty she is, her eyes a fire refusing to burn out. Her cherry candy cheeks and strawberry medicine lips, it'd all get better if he kissed them.

Her gaze melts into his, though the defiance is still vivid and cutting through. It makes him sorry. He frowns and pulls her against his chest, her heartbeat below his, strong and steady. His fingers tucked in her hair, the rest holding her side, her ribs, where he was supposed to protect her.

"I'm sorry…" he mumbles into her hairline, filling it with kisses. "I shouldn't have left you. I'm sorry."

"Go leave again."

The distance between them is instant. That's when he realizes it was always there.

He stares at her, her furrowed brows and burnt eyes, the hurt leaking out of them and pouring into him. "_Go._"

He's falling into the morning again, losing control, mind glazing over. He can feel her heat even when she's backing away from him. It's electric in his veins and through the tips of his fingers, aching to more than graze her skin.

Something breaks for a second.

He steps forward, something involuntary, a reaction instead of a rational and viable decision. A want so deep and sudden that his body doesn't consider any other options, or the circumstances. The whole world could be watching.

Anyone could be watching.

He almost lifts her, takes her in his arms, takes her somewhere that isn't here. He doesn't know what he'd do with her. It'd be everything. What's everything?

She is. She haunts his life. She's the nonstop theme in his dreams. He wants to hold her again tonight. Every night.

Her lips part into a gasp, so soft and slow, something underwater. It's so hot that it burns cold in him.

Always having him feel all these types of ways.

There's water in his ears. He's at the beach with her, the sun's setting. They're the only ones there. In the ocean. It's calling them to stay. He's keeping her afloat, her body wrapped around him, the moon heavy and hanging overhead, a silent lullaby.

They go under. It's quiet. He hears his own heart. She slips away. Falling again. He can't save her.

"_I won't leave,_" he whispers, teeth bared, a promise.

He seals it with his lips on hers, cold with her tears, soft like her body spilling against his, something spilling down his finger and running down his arm. A hot wire.

She turns away.

The black around his vision slowly fades. Everything around him looks too sharp, too real. Like he's back in the light after staring straight into the dark.

She's gripping the counter, her nails purple and knuckles white. He's ready to pretend like nothing happened.

He grabs the handle of her mug, expecting it to be _hot, _or atleast warm. But it's just cold.

_What the fuck?_

They weren't just… _standing _here, were they?

He looks over to where they're sitting, acting… _normal. _Unconcerned. No one's calling for them, or looking at them. But who fucking knows?

"Hey," he whispers harshly to her, but she doesn't react.

"_Hey," _he says again, poking her arm. She trembles and he takes a step away from her. He dips his head down and looks up at her, only to find her…

_Blushing._

"_Oh_," he says, but he really doesn't _mean _to.

But it must've _triggered_ her, 'cause she's slapping her cheeks in the next second, squishing them around like she's some little ass kid. God, she's so _weird._

"_Oh! _Guess my tea's cold… that's okay!"

He raises his brows. "_Hm._"

"C-can you… uh…" she falters as she looks up at him. Uncomfortable. Like she's been caught in the act.

Like she liked it.

It takes practically all his willpower not to smirk down at her. He doesn't know what it is that's making him wanna tease her, play with her. All he knows is that he _wants it. _

"Can I what, angel?" and he says it 'cause sometimes, he likes to be _evil._

Her whole body sways to the sound of his voice, she can barely hide it. She's breathing too fast, so he makes her breathe even faster by coming back, leaving only centimeters between them.

He leans in just slightly, breath hovering over her ear. "I'll do anything you like."

He's got her so good. _So good._ She's _dying _in front of him, her face so nice and flushed. Her whole _body_ must be blushing.

She eyes him from the side, looking less flustered and a little more shy. She shoves her hands into the pocket of her hoodie and shifts her head so that she's staring straight at him. It catches him a bit off guard, but he's on his toes, waiting for what she'll do next.

"Meet me in my room in a bit, okay?" she breathes out before grabbing her tea and sliding away.

He watches her slippers almost come off and he laughs.

* * *

No, she absolutely does _not _know what she's doing.

She felt him touching her when he really actually _wasn't _and it _sent _her somewhere. She stayed a few more minutes downstairs before heading back to her room in order to be a little less suspicious than she already is. God, she _sucks _at sneaking around.

She's still holding her mug when she gets to her room. Only now does she realize just how strange it is that it got cold so fast. From what she could tell, they didn't lose any time. Something just… _gave away _once she cried.

Oh yeah. Oh _wow. _He made her _cry._

But then the feeling is knocked to the ground with the memory of him grazing her skin, in the real world and then their imagination. She knew he saw.

The butterflies in her stomach come back full force and her knees give out for a moment. She's _already weak._ _Why?_

But somehow, she's brave, too. Asking him to come around. _Brave. _She's only slightly nervous now, why isn't she _panicking?_

Her face flushes hot. She's… _excited._

There's a single, hard knock on the door and she's flinging it open like nobody's business, her tea sloshing in the cup before spilling on the ground.

"Good job, dumbass," he smirks.

She almost throws the rest of it on him, but she figures the look she gives him is enough. He's still smiling but at least she shuts up.

He inches closer, his lips dragging down as he goes, only pausing once the tips of their noses nearly brush. He pushes the door closed behind him with his foot and takes the mug. He sets it down on the nearest table and stares.

"I've had enough of you and your damn tea."

"I've had enough of you and your attitude," she quips, a rush rolling through her.

"Can't handle it? Aw," he shrugs, amused. "That's too bad."

He sits at the edge of her bed and leans back on his hands, his legs slightly spread. She barely registers the fact that she's dragging her eyes down his body.

It looks good. It looks _really _good right now, and she doesn't know how to feel about that.

"Couldn't show more skin?" he teases, licking the edge of his teeth.

Something about this feels so familiar — like she's done this with him before. Like they've gone back and forth for ages, teasing, provoking, driving the other crazy.

So something breaks, and she accepts it. She puts herself on the back burner. Whoever she is now… she knows what she _wants_.

She tiptoes her way to him, smoothing her palms over his shoulders. She smiles as he shakes in anticipation, following the lick of his lips.

"Are you ever gonna shut up?" she breathes, leveling her face with his.

He rakes his half-lidded eyes down to her lips and then her chest, her legs, back up again.

There's warm static pouring in her belly and through her like nothing else.

_No way is he this handsome. No way. He's not real._

He sighs heavily and it reaches her mouth. She parts it without thought, already feeling swollen, already ready to lean in, lean in, _come closer…_

"How're you gonna make me, angel?" he says when his gaze settles on hers, rose red and swirling endlessly in her mind.

Without ever looking away, she drapes her legs on either side of him, knees presses against him on the bed. She presses herself as close and deep as she can, and the warmth of him connecting with her has her _drunk_ with it.

His palms slide hot up her thighs until his fingertips rest beneath the hem of her shorts, even higher now as she angles herself on top of him. He scratches her lightly, his neck stretched up to stare at her as he brushes against her inner thighs. She grips his shoulders tight and goes dizzy when he smiles lazily up at her, like he's drunk on it, too.

She smoothes her thumbs over his brows before settling her hands on either side of his jaw. His fingers dig deeper into her thighs and she gasps softly, back arching into him, leaving her neck near his lips. They ghost over her skin and she shifts her hips against his, sighing as he groans.

"Gotta try harder," he says low, brushing his mouth against the corner of her jaw.

She shimmies on top of him, more feeling his curse than hearing it. He takes hold of the legs of her shorts and tugs them up, middle fingers sliding to the tops of her thighs. She gulps.

"But you like it when I talk, don't you?" he says, voice rough. He traces his fingers over her legs with the lightest touch, only stopping to pick at the hem of her socks. He chuckles when she squirms. "You like it a lot."

She grabs the collar of his shirt, trying not to react as he tickles her. She shakes anyway and he nuzzles into the crook of her neck before grazing his teeth on it.

Then he's grabbing her ass and _squeezing. _She _yelps _and he takes the chance to push her up, her chest in his face. He scoots back until his back is against the wall. He grabs her hips roughly and pulls her back down, and now she really _feels _him. She gasps sharply before sinking her teeth into her bottom lip.

He presses his thumbs into the inside of her thighs, rubbing circles deep and slow. She follows the movement with her hips, eyes sliding shut as she revels in the feel of him hot and twitching under her.

There's a hold they have on each other, an equal measure of control that permeates through the air and it's all that she can breathe. It's the smell of his sweat and the sounds coming from the backs of their throats, making her head swirl, filling her to the brim with a pleasure so intoxicating she almost can't stand it.

It's a good thing she's sitting in his lap.

Then he brushes a single finger over her core and she's _jumping _out of her skin from the shock it gives her. It runs up her spine and _explodes _from there, a sound like a squeal leaving her mouth.

"Easy, _easy,_" he chides playfully, drawing his knees up and having her lean against his legs. "Feel good?"

"_Yes,_" she breathes without hesitation.

"Mhm…"

"I… _hmm… _Bakugo…" she says, rocking back and forth.

"Mmm?" he replies lazily, following her movements with his own.

"Too… too _much,"_ she pants. "_Ah!"_

He folds his body so she's pressing into him again, arms wrapping around her back, her legs stretched out around his torso. She threads her hands through his hair without thinking.

"What's too much?"

"_You…_"

"What should I do?"

She grinds down on him, _hard. _His gasp is drowned into her own, but it still tingles through her body.

"_Uraraka,_" he grits through his teeth, his hands sliding under her hoodie and pressing into the hot skin of her lower back.

"_Mmm,_" she moans.

And if it wasn't instinct before, it hits her now. She's rubbing on top of him, pulling his hair, dragging herself in sync with him as he meets her in the middle.

The noises he makes take her high. Her head's in the sky, she's not grounded. Their combined weight dips the bed down but she doesn't even feel like they're on it.

She rolls and rolls and rolls against him, too high to feel ashamed. She's saying his name so much that it becomes heavy on her tongue, noises instead of everything he means to her right now.

Her legs shake so hard that she can only collapse.

It rips through her. Better than she's felt it before. Her vision goes black as heat bursts in flashes, leaving all the tips of her numbing out, a certain exhaustion following.

She slumps and folds into him, his arms wound tight around her. The tears slip down her cheek and then too his neck, ice cold on the heat of their skin.

"You got it," he says into her ear. He rubs her back. "Come back to me, angel. 's fine."

Her wet eyelashes flutter against his cheek. She doesn't wanna leave.

"_Sleep,_" she mumbles.

"What?" he mumbles back.

"Sleep, I wanna sleep…" she pouts, pulling them to the side.

He lays on his back, keeping her on top of him. Her chest feels so good on his.

"Don't leave me again," she says, her dreams slowly taking her.

"I won't."


	10. we're gonna die anyway!

**Author's Note: **Hope y'all are well! Forgive me for the inconsistent updates!

I'm about to get a bit more experimental in this bitch. Hope you like!

* * *

The city lights burn hot through the summer night, gleaming and cutting their chests with the burden of all the life tucked into every corner of it.

Their world, soon to be in ruins.

They should've known this was war.

Something like despair sparks in the space between their lines of vision, something _he_ can't even hide. A realization. Praying it's all just a dream. A prayer so desperate, no words could carry the meaning.

_Maybe_ just one more night. _Maybe _just one last one before the match strikes. If they're lucky, just a few more hours before the world goes up in flames.

Nothing _stung _more than their uselessness. The helplessness. The people outside, blissfully unaware of what's to come. The weight of time ticks and tocks and _tocks _and _ticks _and the ugly copper smell of lossis already making her _choke._

He frowns as she heaves, a single tear betraying her. He crawls backwards, further away from her, back against the wall as he sucks in a shaking breath of stale air. The lights of the safe house slowly, carefully, surely, begin to dim.

She grabs her heart in her fist and tries her damn _best _to rip it out, but it sinks down to the bottom of her guts before she can.

"Quit your fuckin' cryin'."

His voice is level with the ringing in her ears, coming out gruff but half-hearted. Like some weak attempt at normalcy, something for him to _fight._ More tears flow until rivers pour down, the buzzing in the room and their labored breaths breaking the silence.

"Quit it," but it sounds strangled. "_Quit _it."

They only just got here. It's not supposed to be this way. It's not the end. It's not the end. It's not the end. It's not the end. It's _not _the e—

Her head and shoulders _slam _into the wall, her teeth coming down hard on her tongue. She stares straight into his soul, but it's like she's looking straight past him, too, some lifeless doll cold in his hot palms. She scars his _brain._

"_Get a fucking grip,_" he seethes into her ear, his nose brushing her cheek. His teeth press so hard together that they feel ready to break_._ "This isn't the _time._"

"It's not…" she echoes, squeezing her eyes shut. Her grimace ages her. She presses the heels of her hands into the floor and _breathes._

"It's not." He pins her shoulders to the wall and slowly leans back, inspecting her with a scowl.

"It's not." Softer, this time. Stronger.

He wishes she would come back from the void. From the dead. From whatever fucking plane of _existence _her soul is in right now.

They're all haunted, all burdened. She can't die without a fucking _fight._ "You gotta stay here. Come _back_." _Don't leave me the fuck alone._

"I'm…" she begins. She wants to say she's here, here with him, here for the world and everyone she loves.

It doesn't come out. It doesn't come.

She feels his fingers pressing into her arms, feels something like indents forming. Maybe just bruises, no matter how strong he is. He's stronger than her. Holding her down like her presence mattered. She focuses on the feeling. Lets it calm her single-beat heart.

"Harder…" she murmurs, her eyes closing shut. He's keeping her down, keeping her _constant._

_I'm here. I'm here. I'm here._

"_Damnit._" He pushes her roughly, his short nails sinking through the fabric of her sleeves.

She starts to feel real.

"_C'mon, _Uraraka," he says, as close to begging as he can get, his cheek so close to touching hers. She trembles as her blood thaws in her veins, the rhythm of it slowing.

She whimpers and leans forward to hide her face in his neck, but his body stills.

He throws her arms to the floor and _stands_ like he can't take the heat of it. Smoke rises from his palms. She watches through half-lidded eyes, the way he wills himself to… to… _resist._

"_No._"

She nods once, weakly, her single act of defiance. She wants him close again. _Needs _him close. Her hands tremble with the longing to hold.

The world is ending. Doesn't he want a friend?

In a flash of rage, he's lifting her to her feet and pushing her _hard _against the wall, his teeth shining and bared in the dimming light. He's so rough and he's changing up on her too fast and she's _dizzy _with it, her head literally spinning. She feels some apology in the air, but he doesn't say, doesn't gesture to it.

She catches the glint of a tear in his red-rimmed, glassy eyes. She wants to kiss them closed. Tell him it's alright, the way they both wanna hear it.

And then moonlight pours over the surface of his skin and the lights go out above them and now, now, _now _she can't hold it in.

Her chin wobbles, a sob ripping through her. She looks so young, it makes his chest fucking _ache._

She's not supposed to be afraid. This isn't the way it's meant to be.

But they're kids, really. Kids, still. A death toll looming over their heads. The world is ending. They might not be able to stop it.

With her eyes, she begs him to let her grieve. In peace. In pieces. _With her._

An ugly noise, so loud it pierces the space between his ribs, comes out of her throat. A dying animal bleeding out on the concrete. So weak and vulnerable, everything he _despises._ He wants to leave her on the ground, to get her to _stop reminding _him.

"I _know,_" he growls. Except his voice cracks.

She reaches for his chest, trying to grab him and pull him forward, but he catches her wrists in a single hand. He could _break_ her. He almost feels… _rabid._

But he relents.

He's always fighting, she knows this. But she can see it so clearly now. It's almost _unnatural_, almost more unsettling than what's to come.

He falters at her expression. The front breaking. She blinks innocently up at him. Limp in his hold, but he can't tell if it's trust or resignation.

He steps forward, just enough for her fingers to curl in as her knuckles graze his chest. His heartbeat is so strong that she feels it in the veins of her arms, like she's taking him in, accepting what he gives, which was never much.

But now, he's giving her _everything_. The only reason she's standing is _him._ The fear in his eyes, the comfort of it. For once, she wants to stop fighting. She's too young for her bones to ache, but they _do. _

She wants to rest. With _him._

She tries to slide down the wall and to the floor, to bring him down with her. To be human with him. Powerless. _No more control._

He almost lets her. He keeps her in place, instead.

He's familiar with _want._ The way it prickles outward from somewhere deep inside the middle of your body, burning deep and coating your insides. Even the backs of his ribs would burn. It's what made him _go._ No thoughts. _No thoughts._

Her nails scratch down his chest, weak like a kitten's. Her strength is somewhere deep inside of her, but it's spent. He's seen her wither with the pressure of their lives. And now she knows he has, too.

Her touch spreads thick and hot and _down. _Already boiling alive from the inside out. She drags her palms down his stomach and pulls at his uniform, closer, closer. Her fingers wrapping around his belt, her pinkies folded in. Closer. _Closer._

The pain in her heart dissipating, falling like debris. Relief that turns into warmth that turns into life, _burning. _The way he looks at her has her _spinning. _Pained, hungry, curious. _Longing. _She whines at the space still between them.

His smile is so sudden and so _sweet _that she thinks this _really _might be a dream.

A dream of him.

_Us against the world. _

God help her, she drapes her arms around his shoulders so slow, and he watches, unmoving. But he lets her, and she shakes.

"_Bakugo,_" she whispers.

For forever and a day, in moment she'll be happy to die in or with or something she prays is her fate, he locks his eyes with hers.

Then his hands are on her waist. Strong and sure. And it's almost like they're swaying while they wait for the world to burn.

"I want to wake up now," she says, her face crumbling.

His grip on her tightens. He looks away. Looks back. "No."

She nods her head, even as his forehead falls softly against hers. He shuts his eyes but she stares and begs them to open.

"_No." _His thumbs press into her stomach, his fingers into her lower back. It fills her with _need._ "We're fuckin' here. _Alright? _We gotta prepare. We gotta _end this._"

"_HOW?!"_

He cringes as she pulls him down, her face hidden in his neck. Her tears are oceans. They leave him cold.

One hand travels to the back of her head, _yanking _it back by her hair. She quiets immediately, blinking her doe eyes and _killing _him all over again. He cups her neck in his palm and stares down at her.

"No more." He says it once. He says it calmly.

She heaves. She bares her teeth. "_Let me._"

He chuckles, squeezing where he has her. Dragging out a whine. He licks his lips. "You really think this is the end, Angel?"

She simply stares, signs of life brewing in it. She's angry. _Pissed._ Her nails dig into the back of his neck. It feels good and _alive_ and in place there, _reality._

"There's a good _chance_ it _is_," she grits, tears spilling over, her eyes darkening.

His voice drops low. "So you're gonna give up?"

She scratches him down the sides of his neck so harshly that he nearly _hisses_, but he swallows the sudden pain. He grins instead.

She tears her fingers through the back of his hair, placing her forehead back on his, her hot breath fanning over his lips. "Thought you knew me a whole lot better than that. _Katsuki._"

There's a familiar ache in his balls, a familiar heat crawling through him, like he just dropped down to the center of the fucking _Earth._

Their chests press together, pushing against one another as they pant. His hips closing in over hers, her gasping into his mouth. Her tongue running over his bottom lip.

The worst time, the worst place. The only way to feel alive right now. He always tasted sweeter than he looks.

He leans in even closer, his lips right on hers, but not the way she _needs. _She _throbs _as she feels his smirk, arms so tight around him, his hands so hot on her skin. She waits for him to speak, waits for the sun to rise, waits for her existence to end, to maybe end with _him._

He has her.

Open mouth so hard on hers she feels it swell. He always kisses so hard, a bruise you can't help but press down on to see how much it really hurts. Hot and wet and _sliding_, their movements so sloppy and clumsy and _desperate_. He licks up her tongue before taking it into his mouth and _sucking_, her moans so loud and obscene and humid in the air.

Their hips meet harshly, no rhythm set in place. She already feels sore with the way he fucks himself against her, and then her legs are wrapped around him and then it's _easier._ She bites on his lip and doesn't let go when he growls. He twists her nipple _hard _through her suit and she _shrieks_ but he swallows it.

One hand pushes into her lower back, right above her ass, pulling her up into him while the other grips her thigh. She arches her back, her chest and ribs hot and bound to his. He trails wet, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, pulling her head to the side and licking up the column of her throat, biting the skin under her jawline.

She writhes and _hates _him, _loves _what he does to her, always. Sucking bruises wherever he can, snaking a hand between her legs and cupping her and _squeezing. _She yelps, rolling her hips wildly against his hold but he only smiles.

"You know you _like it _rough," he rasps into her ear. Bites the lobe and kisses her cheek so tenderly that she almost forgets where she is.

He grinds the heel of his hand against her, grinning wickedly as she _fucks _it. She grabs his wrists, but she's not strong enough to stop him.

"I'm… I'm _gonna—"_

He releases her.

Then, somehow, _somehow_ he's on the floor, her weight so full and _warm _on him.

"What the— _fuuuuuuuuck."_

Then she's sitting right on his cock.

Now _she's _smiling this evil little smile, way too more _sexy _than it should be. "You forget sometimes, Bakugo."

He grabs her hips roughly, the heat from her center absolutely _destroying _him. "_What?_"

"Not to underestimate me."

Then she's riding him, rubbing herself all over him, getting herself _off_ with all their clothes still on and he feels his eyes rolling to the back of his head, one hand wrapped snug around the dip of her waist and the other at the top of her thigh, his thumb pressing hard into the inside.

The noises she's making, nothing short of _gorgeous_, they come closer and closer and _closer_.

She's kissing his neck. Marking it up nicely, her body right over his now. He smooths his hand down the arch of her back, squeezes her ass, runs his fingers down the middle and pushes them against her covered pussy.

In her moment of weakness, he flips her over and grabs the backs of her thighs, spreading her legs _wide._ She follows him, her hands reaching around to grab his. The only sound is their rapid breathing. Then it's her little mewls, her hips shifting on the wooden floor, _begging._

"_Bakugo,_" she says in a wavering whisper. A second away from choking on her tears.

He stares blankly, watching the pain twist her pretty face.

Knowing that he's just as scared as her. That he feels just as big of a failure as her.

Nothing seemed to be worse than waiting. Waiting. _Waiting._ Time was never their friend.

And it just never stopped fucking _going._

Maybe that's why he lets his face soften. Lets his resolve melt a bit and lets her fucking _see _it. It makes him wanna _die. _

But something heavier is in his chest. Something screaming, _live._ _Live. Live._

Without a word, he pulls at the zipper of her suit, takes off just enough for her tits to pour out, for her pussy to be open to him. He dips down and inhales her scent, his vision going blank for a split second as she moans his name, kissing her.

He lifts himself up to his knees, her legs draped over his arms. He unbuckles his pants, unzips them, watches her watch him and bite her lip. He leans over and grabs her tits, kissing the tops of them before meeting her lips one more time.

He kisses her gently.

Back on his knees, he pushes her legs up, holds her underwear to the side. Brings his tip to where she's open for him.

He doesn't take his eyes off of her as he goes in, slowly.

It's being engulfed in flames. It's filling a vessel so fully, being wrapped by the heat of an explosion.

It's being completed, being fulfilled in every sense of it. He's alive in her. Every beat of his heart, she feels it deeply.

It's okay if they die like this. It's okay.

He stays there, soaking it all one, hanging onto the moment because maybe it's actually one of his fucking _last._ And he has her. He has her for the end.

Her body, spread out and arched. So profoundly perfect, but he can't let himself look away, even though it _hurts_ to see.

He moves out, her body nearly refusing it. He grits his teeth and wraps his hands around her thighs, parting them harshly. As he moves back in, she sighs in relief. Heaves in pain.

She keeps saying his name. It's all she seems to know.

He moves back out, her entire being shuddering as he does, tears slipping down her cheeks from the intensity of it. She doesn't watch him watch her, but she can feel it, his eyes burning holes into her soul.

He fills her again. And over again. And over again. Until he's fucking her so deeply and wholly that she's begging him to bring his body closer so that she can hold onto him.

He hooks her legs over her shoulders. She _screams _as he pounds into her, his pace faster, his hands hot on her hips and ass. She feels the heat building in the middle of her, the storm ready to break it.

And she looks so _perfect _like this. Every single movement, look, _sound_, sends sparks shooting up and down his spine, fire licking every inch of his skin. His body is fucking _sore _with it.

"Ka—_tsuuuki… ah!"_

He fucks her, and she fucks him back. The world about to die, crash, _burn_.

"_Ochako… Ochako. _So fucking _good."_

But they chose this. Chose each other.

"_Mmmhmm… _yes… _Katsuki."_

He holds her closer. She holds him closer.

"I got you, Angel. _Fuck, _I _got you._"

Then she kisses him, over and over, as she cums around him. As he cums inside of her. Her tears pouring into it, and he drinks in the salt of them. Slowing inside of her. Life to drown out the death outside.

They stay together, until the night closes in. At the end of the world, holding each other. Hoping, for another day, to _live._

Outside, the sky is dark.

And in comes the morni


	11. hiiiii, my name is ochako uraraka! i lov

walking on

clouds

...

…

..

….

katsuki?

…..…..…..…. katsuki?

…..…..…..…. katsuki?

…..…..…..…. katsuki?

…..…..…..…...

it hurts again:(

kiss me

?

not so rough

stop calling me fat

thats not nice

how will it be when we're older?

why am i bleeding again?

why cant my life be a shojo manga?

i just wanted to sleep

you snore

but its fine just dont leave me


	12. bakugo if he was a contemporary poet

ochako tastes

like strawberry medicine

kinda wanna fuck


	13. kacchako lives the american dream

**Author's Note: **Y'all are so lovely, thank you for your kind words! Enjoy!

* * *

"_HUH!"_

"Oi, _DUMBASS!"_

She has all her weight on his chest, fingers bunched into the fabric of his shirt — _white, _why is it _white? _— and she thinks she might be pushing the air out of his lungs.

_Whatever! _He _deserves it!_

"Watch your mouth already!" she sneers, gripping his shirt tightly. Oh my god, is it a _button-down? _"When did you change your clothes?" she says with a gasp, grabbing at the collar and nearly pressing her nose to his.

"Fuck are you _talking_ about?" He grabs her shoulders and pushes her roughly, and yeah, _yeah, _she's sitting _right _on top of him. "Yo—"

No. No, she's _not _sitting on top of him.

"Baku-_goooo!" _she cries as she flips upside down, and it's not the same, her stomach feels weird, she's out of _control. "Release! Release! RELEASE!"_

"Fuck's _wrong _with you?" he says, standing on the bed, his black dress shoes sinking into the white sheets. "Make it work!"

"I _can't! _It's not!" she practically whines, panic twisting and turning every part of her. Her back is on the ceiling, except it feels higher than it should be, is he getting _smaller?_ Her palms are wet, is it sweat? And so hot, so _hot…_

He reaches for her, and somehow, it makes the distance stop growing, but only for a moment. His hair's slicked back, is that even possible? But all she can really focus on is his eyes, bright and cracked and echoing through her. A tear falls and it seems to fall in slow motion, her arms growing weak as she pushes her fingertips together desperately, but her muscles hurt and they're spent and why does it?

Her tear sounds like an explosion once it hits the floor. She whimpers and curls against the ceiling, and then he's far away again, calling her name.

"_FUCK!" _It comes ragged from his throat. The frustration cuts her veins. "_OCHAKO!" _He grabs his hair. "GET _DOWN!"_

Closer. Closer. Closer. She's coming down! His face is getting close, kinda red and blotchy, and her feet are gonna touch the floor any _second!_

"_OI!"_

"...Oh, _no,"_ she whispers.

"What. Did. You. _Do."_

"_Nothing!"_

He grabs her arms and now he's the one bringing them nose-to-nose. The look he gives her doesn't need words; the chills go through her. Except they're the opposite of chills. They're hot and they burn her everywhere and in a way it's _good_ but it needs release, and it's building _so fast—_

"_HEY!"_ he yells in surprise as her palms smoke and spark and she's practically _ricocheting _off the wall, only to come back into the safety of his hands.

"Wait, _wait,"_ he says, and then she realizes she's full-blown _panicking, _curled into a ball and crying into her own arms as he tries to bring her back.

"What's _happening!" _she wails.

"Like I _know,"_ he says into her ear, and he mutters something else before he wraps her in his arms and they're falling.

She doesn't know it in time to scream; they bounce on the bed and he's holding her so tight that her ribs ache.

She drags her hair away from her face — is it _curly? _— and tries to catch her breath.

Except she can't really.

She takes whatever little strength she has left and _shoves _him off of her. She rolls over and grows limp, arm hanging off the edge of the bed. She tries not to listen to his huffing and puffing, but it only seems to get louder and louder.

After a long stretch of time, he breaks the silence. "Ochako…" he says gruffly.

It escapes her, and she doesn't know why she's _mad, _but she _is. _"Leave. Me. _Alone._"

She feels the mattress shift and knows that he flinched. The small ounce of guilt it gives her is washed away by the _overwhelming _urge to — to — to _what, _exactly?

_Kiss him? _Punch him? Cry like the crybaby she is?

Is this how he feels, existing every day?

"Quit acting like a damn _child. _I think our quirks got switched."

She whips her head around, arms crossed tight over her chest. And it makes _sense._

Her breath gets quick like when you get into cold, cold water. Except she's _warm _all over. "How do you freaking _do this?"_

"How do you do _this?" _he snaps back, waving his hands in front of her face.

"This has to be another trick!"

"No _shit. _Had to put me in this monkey suit, too," he says, looking down at the black slacks he's wearing in disgust.

_A cute monkey suit?_

She should _slap _herself.

She looks down at her body, and wonders how she didn't notice that she's wearing a whole entire _dress,_ the red skirt flowing and ending just below her knees. She reaches for her neck, a weight resting there. Pearls? And the heels she's wearing, black and buckled with thin straps around her ankles — it looked _decades_ old.

"Is my hair curly?" she asks, almost afraid of the answer.

He scoffs. What a _jerk. _"Yeah. Is mine fuckin'..." he tugs at it, but _somehow, _it stays in place.

"...Yeah."

"_AGH!"_

Does he _need _to make caveman noises? They scare her when he does it like that!

He steps over her and jumps off the bed, tearing the bathroom door open and letting it slam against the wall. She hops off after him, her heels clacking loudly on the wooden floor. She finds him staring into the mirror, gripping the sink with his ring finger awkwardly folded over his middle, and despite herself, she smiles at that.

"I'm going to murder the bastard who did this," he states plainly at the mirror.

She walks to him and resists the temptation to touch him somewhere, anywhere. She turns to the mirror instead.

She doesn't know what she expected.

The first thing she notices is the deep red lipstick. And then the pink blush, blended high on her cheeks. The cat-like eyeliner that she never thought would work on her, and the long lashes that flared above it. In what world would she wear this kind of makeup, and this _much _of it?

But it's also her hair, curled like some old-school actress, parted to the side with a barrette pinning the other back behind her ear. And the neckline of this dress, just low enough for her cleavage to poke through, its sleeves draping just under her shoulders.

She looks older — but oh my gosh, she looks _pretty._ Is she even actually _looking _at herself?!

Her eyes slide to his in the reflection. He's already looking at her.

The butterflies burst in her belly.

He looks… _nice. _

Okay. He looks handsome as _hell_ and it's _really _annoying and unnecessary. He looks half done, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his collar devoid of any tie, which she assumes he would have, considering what she's wearing, and aren't they supposed to be trying to figure this out right now? He's still looking at her with this _look_ and it's making her head spin. _Why?_

He tucks his hands into his pockets and stares her down. Her face twitches. She turns to him and he follows, inching closer.

The pounding keeps him still, though.

Immediately, they both tense, waiting for another sound.

It stops for only a minute before it goes on again, harder this time. It makes her feel _groggy_ and irritated. Whoever it is is _relentless._

He storms out of the bathroom and she follows, begging him silently not to be stupid. Her heart is practically matching the continuous pounding, and now it won't stop, and now he's about to break open the door and _how else can I stop him? _It's not a good idea with the way things are between them, but she wraps his arm up in both of her own and holds it to her chest.

He turns back, gaze hot.

"_Don't_," he mouths.

She feels it — feels him go a little soft at how she's asking him, asking him not to be _reckless _right now, that they're trapped in another… dream… _reality…_ and _anything _could happen.

To him. To _them._

But the stubborn ass. The absolutely insufferable _jerk._

"_Watch me,_" he says, loud and clear, before ripping away from her grasp and wrenching open the door, murder in each one of his harsh breaths.

The lights are dim in the hallway. They fall over no one.

"Of _fucking _course," he grumbles. "SHOW YOURSELF, PUSSY!"

"_Bakugo!"_ she hisses, grabbing at his belt loops. He reaches behind himself and grabs her wrist. "Stop it!"

She _gasps _as he yanks her out into the hallway. She lands on a red-carpeted floor and stares down into the narrow darkness, something that kind of sounds like footsteps prickling her stomach with fear.

Oh god, her palms are _so _sweaty. And, she like… smells like him! She wipes her hand on her dress and fights it when he tugs her along, his speed picking up.

She kinda wants to _hurl._

"This is really stupid! Please, Bakugo, let's go back!" she whisper-screams, trying to plant her feet on the ground, but dang he is _strong._

"Shutup. You're bringing this bastard _down_ with me."

Her eyes get as big as they can go. "_I do not want to be a part of this!" _

"_Hey!"_ he hisses, dragging her straight up and nearly pressing his forehead to hers. "Get your _shit_ together."

The anger rolls _hot. _"What do you mean! Did you forget that we have each other's quirks?! I don't _know —" _she yelps as her palms spark, but of course he doesn't even _flinch,_ " how to _use this!"_

He stares at her for a long moment, except maybe it was just two seconds, but her sense of time left her_ weeks _ago. "You got this."

What is this? His version of a pep talk? With no expression, no smile, no other words of encouragement… so why does she _believe _him?

Sincerity — she can see his sincerity. Does he… really think…?

"Yes," he says. "You can. I'll teach ya. Quit being such a scaredy-cat already." He turns around, and she thinks he might be embarrassed. "_Damn."_

"But _still. _We don't know who we're up against…"

"I don't fuckin' care. I can kick their ass, whoever the _fuck _it is. I don't _need _my quirk."

Now, for some reason, this sense of _shame _fills her, and it's like — shouldn't she be thinking the same as him? They've been working so hard, _training _for this. And they're _together. _They've been doing this together and they've made it through so far. Shouldn't she trust in herself? In him?

She doesn't see any other option anymore.

She twists her hand so that she's sort of holding his and squeezes as much as she can. "Okay."

He doesn't even look at her. He just goes.

And yeah, it's _him _who takes her hand in his, his pinky folded over his ring finger, and he doesn't let go as they walk down the hall.

It doesn't seem to end.

The footsteps echo, but they get nowhere.

It's a trick, the way the end of the hall looks so dark, the way the walls seem to be closing in. The way the ceiling above them twists around and the chandeliers seem a second away from falling.

But with him, she doesn't need to be so scared.

And then — is that music?

"Do you hear that?" she mumbles to his back.

"Yeah. Sounds like some old geezer kinda shit."

"_FREEZE!"_

They're being chased. Of course they are.

Beside them, an opening. She hears the shouts of too many men behind them — she is on _flight mode. _

"Those _freaks _of nature! _GET THEM!"_

And if she hadn't gathered this already, this would let her know that they are _not _in the 21st century.

They're in the air and she doesn't know it until he wounds his arms around her middle and presses her to his chest. They lay on the ceiling and watch as uniformed men rush past.

"Can't be real…" he whispers into her ear.

She nods. She feels his cheek on her temple. "Duh."

He gives her a half-hearted glare and gently kicks them off the wall before muttering a "release."

"Why does that feel _gross,"_ he heaves, holding his chest. "This why you puke all the damn time?"

Irritation flares in her own. "Why are you so _pissy _all the time? Is it 'cause you always feel like a cat in heat?"

He rolls his eyes. "You're annoying."

She sticks her tongue out at him, arms crossed.

A door appears before them, like a curtain call. Grand like an auditorium door. The music reverberates through it and then her bones, and she forgets how much of a _meanie_ he is for a second.

He catches the crook of her elbow and pushes it open.

A whole freaking band, performing live in a whole freaking ballroom! Tons of people dancing, and even more sitting at the fanciest freaking tables she's ever seen! Decorations filled every inch of the room! It looks like a picture she had to print out for her history project in middle school!

People laughed around them, talked and drank from fancy glasses, the lights rich and warm and coated with the sounds of jazz, practically rattling her whole body.

"The fuck?"

But she keeps staring in fascination.

She's out of his grasp. Why? Who's _touching _her?

"_Deku?"_ she gasps, as he gently holds her hand and takes her to the dance floor.

The music slows. He places one of her hands on his shoulder and the other in his. He holds her waist and holds her _close._

Is it really him? He looks _older. _But they all do, don't they? He laughs and it's melodic and _handsome_. _What?_

"I was looking for you all night…" he says into her ear, and she can't help the shivers that go down her spine.

"O-oh…"

Then she hears what sounds like a vicious dog barking. She glance over her shoulder to see Bakugo being forced to dance with someone else — who is that? Camie?

He puts a finger under her chin and then Deku's lips are ghosting over hers.

"_FUCK OFF!"_

Bakugo's dragging her away, and the lights get brighter. She catches faces she knows in the crowd — their classmates, all staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed and where is he even _taking _her?

A darkness grows. He takes her through it.

* * *

**Author's Note:** If you also happen to be an X-Files fan, this was inspired by my favorite episode "Triangle" lmao


End file.
